


Wings of a Storm

by canadianhannah



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Anger, Angst, Artist Gerard Way, Asshole Adam Lazzara, Avoidance, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bad date, Bitterness, Boss/Employee Relationship, Break Up Talk, Crushes, Crying, Dog causes problems by accident, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Kissing, Drunken Regret, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exes, Fantasizing, Feelings Realization, Flirting, Frerard, Friendship, Grerard, Hangover, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Light Sexual Content, Lovers to Friends, M/M, Men Crying, Mildly Dubious Consent, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Panic Attacks, Pining, Post-Break Up, Public Display of Affection, Public Sexual Contact, Realisations of love, Reference to vomiting, Regret, Rejected Advance, Rejection, Secret Crush, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension, Silent Treatment, Tags May Change, argument, coffee shop AU, cold shoulder, dog content, gerant - Freeform, ignoring
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:21:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26250325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canadianhannah/pseuds/canadianhannah
Summary: Gerard Way loves his job as a server at one of the local cafes in town; he loves working with his ex-boyfriend-turned-best-friend Frank, he loves the opportunity to focus on his art alongside his work - and most of all, Gerard loves his boss.Perpetually shy and well-mannered, Gerard can't quite build up the courage to tell his suave, charming boss Grant how he feels about him: leaving an unguarded doorway for longing, desire and misunderstandings to enter. As his relationships are tested, Gerard must battle betrayal, lust, and his own fantasies - or risk losing everything.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Grant Morrison/Gerard Way
Comments: 13
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

Gerard liked his job. The vaguely rock-and-roll themed café sat snugly on the corner between a used book store and a chain fast food place, across the street from the _other_ , almost identical café where he took his lunch breaks, and down the road from the only bar in town. If he walked ten minutes up the street, Gerard would come across the park he never visited, and across from that, the gym that he _also_ never visited. Five minutes down a hill revealed another bookstore that he secretly bought all the books that the used one next door to his work didn’t stock, and three and a half minutes along the road from that, was his apartment, where he was currently sat, coffee mug cupped between his hands. The early October breeze threw leaves against the thin windowpanes which shook in their frames, half-fogged up from the space heater he was blasting in his direction.

“Freezing,” he muttered to himself, swallowing the last gulp of coffee in the mug, eye narrowing at the hairline crack in its base as he swirled the dregs along the porcelain. Gerard, himself, was never one to be late – his shift started at 7am, and he was already dressed in his uniform of a black longsleeve shirt and jeans, which he would adorn with his branded apron once he arrived at work. His bag was ready, leaning against the sofa so he could grab it on his way out, and his shoes sat neatly just beside it; the only missing ingredient to Gerard’s morning was Frank.

It was not lost on Gerard how odd his friendship with Frank was. The pair had dated for eight years, had moved in together and bought a dog, and were talking about marriage when Frank one day returned to their home to find a tear-stained Gerard with his bags packed, half of them already shoved into the tiny 2003 Fiat Panda they shared. A surprising few words were exchanged – Frank was allowed to keep their pitbull, Stevie, and Gerard would give him his share of the money for the rest of the year’s rent and the car. Frank didn’t beg Gerard to stay, or fight – he just stared, silently, as Gerard rattled off all of the reasons he was leaving, and all the planning he had done. Perhaps, Gerard thought, Frank would have fought harder if it weren’t obvious that Gerard had been planning his departure for _months_. He wondered if Frank had ever bought the engagement ring they’d discussed, but he didn’t ask, and Frank never offered the information.

That event was why now, nearly two years later, Frank walked the twenty minutes from his two bedroom apartment on the other side of town, to Gerard’s single-room studio with no heating, so the pair could walk to work together. There was some discussion of Gerard leaving the café, but Frank insisted that he didn’t mind, and Gerard was only too happy to remain where he was. The first few weeks were awkward avoidances and teary confessions in the bathroom on their lunch breaks - but now it was harmonious, and light. Gerard _loved_ Frank, after all – him being unable to be his boyfriend didn’t change that.

The sharp knock on the door sucked a sigh of relief from his lungs; pondering too deeply into his past with his best friend often left Gerard feeling weepy and guilty, and Frank would have to deal with a barrage of ‘heyyouknowiloveyourightandi’llalwaysloveyou’ that left both of them feeling uncomfortable at best. The three seconds it took for Gerard to set his cup aside and rise to his feet were, apparently, too much for Frank, as a moment later he twisted the door in the special way one could so as to unlock it without a key (a function Gerard prayed no local murderer ever discovered), and barged through the door, a breathless grin on his face.

Frank opted to wear a t-shirt version of Gerard’s black shirt, with the sole intention of showing off both his tattoos and the muscles he’d gained over the last year – the latter of which, Gerard admitted, made him go a little weak in the knees even when they were covered by a jacket, as they were on this occasion. Where Gerard’s hair was long and black, hanging almost to his shoulders limply, Frank kept his own black hair short, nearly shaved to the sides, with enough long hair in the middle that he could spike it up into a pyramid on the top of his head, or leave it hanging over one side, as he did currently. Gerard offered him a watery smile, making the younger man frown suspiciously

“Gerard you’re not being a big gay baby again, are you?” he asked, resting his back against the doorframe. Gerard sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of his hand as he grabbed his scarf from where it was draped over the back of the sofa

“ _No_. Shut up, you’re so annoying,” he muttered, winding the garment around his throat, before toe-ing his feet into his shoes. Frank snorted, holding the door open as Gerard slung his bag over his shoulder.

_“_ Yeah, yeah, whatever. That’s why you keep me around even after you dum-“

 _“Frank!_ ” Gerard whined, lip protruding out in a soft pout. Admittedly, Frank’s joviality at the mention of his own abandonment was mostly a façade – he hated being reminded of the fact that Gerard had left him, but the other man got in _moods_ where he wouldn’t let the subject go. Frank supposed it was because, even after all this time, neither of them had ever really had any closure. He was so desperate to keep Gerard in his life that he’d accepted friendship at any cost, and avoided any uncomfortable conversation that could drive Gerard away: leaving them both being _fine_ all the time, but with the occasional pinprick of agony whenever they remembered what could have been.

“It’s fine, Gee. You’re my best friend, I’m not mad at you,” Frank lied, the words sounding so convincing by this point, even to himself, that he internally commended himself. Gerard nodded, shaking his head as if to rouse himself, before offering a genuine grin.

“Okay. Sorry. Uh – hey, we’re getting that shipment of Pumpkin Spice syrup in today,” he chirped, by way of averting the conversation. Despite the blatant nature of the shift, Frank was grateful for it, smiling as he followed the winding steps down to the ground floor of Gerard’s building

“Yeah, I heard Grant mention it yesterday to Bert.”

Frank glanced sideways as soon as their boss’s name was mentioned, and grinned when Gerard, as if on cue, blushed deeply.

“Cool,” Gerard mumbled, acutely aware of the eyes on him. Frank laughed, tugging playfully at the scarf around Gerard’s neck as they stepped out into the crisp autumn breeze.

“You’re such a slut, Gerard. I don’t see why you don’t just ask him out for a drink,” Frank smiled, curling his arm through Gerard’s, pressing his elbow into the other man’s side as if to drink in some of the faint warmth he was emitting. Gerard batted his eyelashes innocently, a knowing smirk on his face as he walked forward, avoiding the carpet of soggy leaves which tried to wrap themselves around his boots.

“Who? Bert? Bert and I go for drinks all the time, Frankie,” he replied coolly, keeping his eyes focused on the path in front of him as an excuse to not look into Frank’s smug, amused little face.

“Oh you’re the fucking _worst_. You know who I mean. You’ve been obsessed with him since day one – trust me, I had to _date you_ while you thirsted after him. Just ask him out.”

“Y’know Frankie, I’d love to – I really would. But I’m actually busy that evening,” Gerard mumbled, pressing his face behind his scarf to shield his lips from the biting cold.

“I’m gonna tell him you like him some day,” Frank threatened brightly, eyes glimmering with amusement. Gerard rolled his eyes – Frank had been making the same threat for years, and it was yet to come to fruition, so he figured he was safe. Still, he bumped Frank’s hip with his own, casting him a dark glare.

“I’m content as I am. I’m like… the Phantom of the _Lovely Biscuits_.”

Frank snorted, returning the hip-bump with one of his own, finally dropping his arm from Gerard’s so as to shove both hands into his own pockets for warmth. He could have retorted, but the conversation always went in circles – Gerard refusing to admit that he was desperate for their boss, and Frank trying to _convince_ him to admit it. The entertaining element of the conversation was Gerard trying to speak to Grant as if he hadn’t just been gossiping about him when they eventually got to work, but Frank figured he’d give his friend a reprieve – for now.

The pair were, generally, always the first two to arrive. On days where Gerard worked and Frank did not, the latter was almost always late, but such frivolous wasting of time set Gerard’s teeth on edge, so Frank made an effort to get to Gerard’s house at a time that would make them perpetually embarrassingly early. For this reason alone, Grant had entrusted a key to Gerard, so the man didn’t have to wait out in the cold – following an incident wherein Grant had arrived a mere fifteen minutes late to find Gerard with white fingers and blueish lips, desperately clinging to the door, as if his desire alone would open it. The event was prominent in Gerard’s mind because Grant had made a joke about sucking on Gerard’s fingers to warm them up again, and the younger man had nearly fainted.

The constant nature of Gerard’s being early left both him and Frank surprised to discover that, on that day, the café appeared to have already been opened. The red and pink neon ‘open’ sign that sat in the window was on, the pink lights flickering on and off in a way reminiscent to fireworks, while the red sat unwaveringly in the middle, the warm glow teasing at the comfort to be found inside.

Peering through the door, Gerard spotted the orange-hued wall sconces which had already been turned on, casting a fiery glow over the black leather seats, crowded around the short tables which took up the seating area of the room. The walls were adorned with mainly band posters, but Grant often asked Gerard to draw different promotional posters too, and these were also scattered across the walls. His eyes fell on one caricature he had drawn of Grant in the early days of his employment, which to this day sat in its frame, high on the wall between an _Amy Winehouse_ poster and a framed original pressing of a _Fleetwood Mac_ record.

“Looks like he’s already here. That’s never good,” Frank mumbled, reaching past Gerard to press on the window. Knowing the door to be perpetually stiff, Frank pressed his body against the wood and gave it a firm shove, hearing a faint (and perhaps, worrying) _pop_ as the two men stumbled into the café. The lights above the bar area itself were also on, accompanied by the distinguished hum of the various machines as they woke up from their slumber. Gerard spotted a mug balanced delicately atop the microwave, its side stained with a drop of black coffee. The liquid curled around the logo on the side of the cup – _Lovely Biscuits_ written in harsh, sharp red font, with the date 2013 stamped just below it.

“He’s definitely here, then,” Frank mumbled, shrugging off his own jacket and folding it over his arm. Despite the shop being ‘open’, they didn’t technically start serving customers for another half an hour, so neither were particularly worried about professionalism. Gerard slowly unwound his own scarf as the pair made their way behind the counter, a new sound becoming clear to their ears the closer they got to the S T A F F O N L Y sign that adorned the door at the back of the shop. Standing directly outside of it, Gerard recognised the tell-tale notes of David Bowie’s _Sue_ , mangled by the cheap radio projecting the noise from behind the door.

“We gotta go in to get our aprons,” Frank murmured in an undertone, casting a distrustful glance at the door. Gerard nodded, shifting on his heels

“But if he’s in a bad mood-“

“He’s not,” came the sharp reply from behind the door. Gerard jumped, grasping onto Frank’s arm as both surprise and delight flooded through his body at the sound of his boss’s voice, the thick Scottish accent curling around his words like an embrace. Frank shot his friend a knowing wink, before nudging the door, genuinely surprised when it opened easily.

In defense of both Gerard and Frank, they were traversing new territory – Grant often arrived fifteen minutes late, hungover, and spoke only in gentle tones so as not to aggravate the always-present headache; to find him at work bright and early, listening to music, was nothing short of a miracle.

Grant didn’t look up immediately when the two men entered the room, but kept his eyes on the piece of paper he was writing on, occasionally leaning over to check something against a small booklet he kept next to his hand. Amusingly, another cup of coffee sat beside him, this one almost drained.

“You’re here early,” Frank noted, seemingly calm now that he could actually assess the situation – and seeing that Grant wasn’t seething with rage. The only times, in the past, that their boss had arrived early, was when someone had forgotten to turn an oven off and he’d received a call at three in the morning to come and turn it off, or when someone had found money missing from the till the day before. Today, though, the older man seemed completely at peace, albeit busy.

“Had to sort out all of this… shit,” he mumbled, finally leaning back in his chair. Frank had already passed the red apron over his head, dropping his belongings onto the floor beneath the hooks, but Gerard still had his own gripped in his hand; usually he had time to prepare before attempting to speak to his boss, but _this_ had caught him off guard. Grant turned, finally, and flashed a smile at the two men. Tall and completely bald, Grant looked far younger than his forty-seven years, with a defined and masculine bone structure, straight nose, and a wide, inviting smile that sent waves of adoration through Gerard. Even though he was seventeen years his senior, Grant never held his maturity nor his authority over the heads of Gerard, or any of the employees; he even wore the same uniform of a black t-shirt and red apron, which he currently adorned despite the shop not technically being open yet. This, ultimately, gave Gerard the opportunity to ogle not-so-subtly at his boss’s muscular arms.

“Shit?” Frank asked, looking up as he finished tying the apron around his waist. Grant nodded solemnly, gesturing with an open palm.

“Aye. We’re being rented out for some sort of… Halloween party at the end of the month,” he mumbled, eyebrows furrowing. He turned to look at Gerard, eyes boring into him for a moment as if inspecting him. Thinking it would appease him, Gerard slowly pulled the apron over his head, earning an amused grin from Grant.

“Gerard, I hate to ask this – I’ve been fucking around with the rota and… Frank, I know it’s your birthday, so I’m not gonna make you work, but-“ he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, “Gerard I would love you _forever_ if you wouldn’t mind switching your day off and working this party with me and Bert,” he said, voice tired and resigned. Grant seemed genuinely apologetic for asking Gerard the favour, but that wasn’t what Gerard’s mind had focused on.

“Forever?” he squeaked, fingers pausing in the middle of tying the apron. A slow smile spread across Grant’s face, amusement curling his lips upwards.

“Forever. I’d owe you massively. I know you two usually have plans, but this whole thing is going to be a pain in my ass, and I-“

“He’ll do it,” Frank interjected, giving Gerard a prompting pat on the ass. Gerard turned to scowl at him, but his expression melted into one of concern.

“But your birthday, Frankie,” he murmured softly. Every year, Gerard and Frank spent their respective birthdays together – both out of nostalgia, and genuinely having nothing better to do. Frank smiled, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Make it up to me another time,” he murmured. He turned to Grant, “don’t worry, Gee’s your man,” Frank said boldly. Grant’s eyebrows raised slowly as his eyes flitted between Gerard and Frank. For a horrible moment, Gerard held the notion that, perhaps, Grant could read between the lines of what Frank had said, and _knew_ , somehow, of the crush Gerard was harboring.

“Apparently so,” Grant said after a moment, eyes glimmering with something Gerard couldn’t quite place. After a moment, though, the man turned back to his desk, scribbling something down into the open diary before him.

“Thanks, Gerard, you’re a life saver. I think I heard Bert come in a few minutes ago – you guys should head out and start opening,” he murmured, not even glancing up. With no other real excuse to stay, Gerard followed Frank out of the office. He glanced back as he left, to take one more look at Grant, and felt his stomach twist as he noted the gentle smirk on the older man’s lips. Nothing explicit had been said, and yet Gerard felt _seen_ in an uncanny way that sent a visible shiver through him.

“Cold shiver or horny shiver?” Frank asked playfully as the door shut behind him.  
Gerard didn’t hear the chuckle Grant gave – and perhaps that was for the best.


	2. Chapter 2

_Gerard was running, breath coming in harsh pants as the rubber soles of his boots slapped against the wet pavement. The bottoms of his jeans were soaked with dirty rainwater that had already begun to stiffen the fabric – but still he ran. His lungs were barbed wire, his breath caught, stuck in the twisted metal; he coughed, sending a plume of white an inch from his face in the dark, the cold sending wracking shivers through his body that jerked him this way and that. The haze of exhaustion was beginning to creep over his body, slowing his steps like a vice clamping his ankle. When he could take no more of the agony – of the cold wrought throughout his form, of the weight of his own body dragging towards the earth – he finally stopped. Back pressed against brick, he could feel the jagged shapes cutting into his skin through his shirt, the dank moss oddly soothing after the intensity of his run. He could hear him, now. With no energy left to resist, he knew his moments were few – he welcomed the end, praying only that it would be fast. The thought barely flitted through his mind before he was before him – the vampire. Tall, with straight, perfect features and a full mouth, the cloaked man stalked towards him – strutting, almost, as if he had known he’d won. Gerard closed his eyes, taking a shuddering breath, and when he re-opened them, the vampire was before him. Thin, pale fingers pulled back the cloak, revealing the hairless head, and those sparkling, always-amused eyes._

_“Gerard,” he breathed, moving his face closer, the Scottish accent adding an alluring lilt to the word. Gerard could taste the sweet breath on his lips, and he hungered for it. Too tired, now, to resist, he leaned towards him, desperate to drink in more of that sweetness._

_“I am tired of running. I’m so tired-“ he breathed, hands reaching to curl in the vampire’s cloak. The vampire smirked, cupping his jaw with his strong hands, grip only slightly too tight, yet enough to set Gerard’s pulse racing._

_“Then do not run,” the vampire whispered, finally leaning forward to press his full, beautiful lips against Gerard’s-_

A sudden, sharp pain in his thigh made Gerard gasp, jumping back from the counter he’d been leaning on. Bert, with his shoulder-length brown hair, too-big t-shirt and baggy jeans, stood a foot away grinning devilishly, still twirling the dish towel he’d used to whip Gerard’s leg.

“Stop daydreaming during working hours,” Bert taunted in a faux-Scottish accent, barely able to hold back the laughter that was running through his chest as he spoke. Gerard huffed, rubbing his elbows, now sore, and tried to fight the blush that bloomed across his cheeks at even a mockery of his boss’s voice.

“I can do what I want – the place is dead,” he mumbled – scowling more from embarrassment at being caught (again) than anything else. Despite this, his observation wasn’t by any means incorrect – the morning rush had come and gone, and the café was experiencing its daily pre-lunch lull. The only customers present were an older man who sat in the far corner, hunched over his tomato soup, and a college-aged girl on the other side of the room, fingers clacking anxiously on the keys of her laptop, papers strewn across two adjoining tables.

Frank, who had been cleaning the un-occupied tables, approached with a wide grin on his face, playfully spraying Gerard with the table polish

“Stranger on a train, or skydiving instructor?” Frank asked, leaning heavily on the counter. Gerard huffed out through his nose, turning his scowl to his best friend

“Neither,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. Frank looked around him, pretending to wipe down the already-clean counter as he leaned in close to Gerard’s blazing face

“Yeah? A new one? Wow – okay, what was it?” he asked, eyes wide and amused. Gerard couldn’t help the shy smile that crept over his face – Frank was like a puppy, he couldn’t help but feel uplifted whenever he was around

“It was uh… vampires. Never had that one before but… yeah. Vampires,” he mumbled, brows furrowing. Frank nodded in appreciation, seeming to be letting the image run through his head

“Vampires, huh? Yeah, I can see that – the whole sexy and forbidden…thing. I can see it,” he grinned. At that moment, though, the bell above the door let out its shrill, too-familiar call, and Frank ducked away to allow Gerard to serve an attractive middle-aged man with a young child in tow. Usually, the man would have been Gerard’s type, but being in the café made Gerard a little bit oblivious to such things, as if the normal rules of attraction subsided when Grant was near enough to be palpable.

Gerard always took his break at a quarter past one – it was the best way to ensure he was around for _most_ of the lunch rush, and back in time to help clean up before their final rush of the day. As much as he adored _Lovely Biscuits,_ being around the various food and drink items all day every day had somewhat turned him off of them, so he usually traversed to the café across the road for food which was, to be fair, very similar to their own menu.

As he did every day, Gerard’s eyes were fixed to the clock above the door the moment it flicked to 1:10pm, following each jerky movement of the clock’s hand as it dragged from number, to space, to number again. He served customers on an autopilot, taking down orders without even really letting them pass through his brain; it would be thought that he’d make more mistakes than he did, but the monotony was infallible.

Gerard’s close inspection of the clock meant that he knew the exact moment he felt Grant’s hand on his hip – it was 1:12, with twenty seconds to go until 1:13. The man’s grip was warm and gentle – just enough contact to get Gerard’s attention, but not quite heavy handed enough to make his head swim.

“Gerard?” came the sudden, soft tickle of Grant’s voice behind his ear. There was a line of customers forming, and most of the tables were occupied, filling the café with spritely chatter that almost drowned out the gentle lull of the music playing over the speakers – but as Grant spoke to him, suddenly the docile tone of his voice was all Gerard could hear. He swallowed hard, handing the girl in front of him her change, before half-turning towards his boss.

“Hey – you want the till?” he asked, trying to sound disinterested, but only really succeeding in offering his boss a startled squeak. Grant smiled slowly, removing the hand that Gerard hadn’t _quite_ realised was still resting on his hip until he no longer felt its firm warmth.

“You’re heading out for lunch, right?” he asked, his voice steady and unperturbed in a way that was ultimately frustrating, considering Gerard’s own anxiety that peaked every time the man spoke. Gerard nodded, shooting him a tight-lipped smile.

“Yeah, in literally a second. Why, is that inconvenient?” he asked, daring to glance at his boss from the corner of his eye. Grant seemed calm and unbothered, nudging Gerard gently out of the way with his hip.

“Not inconvenient at all – just keeping all my ducks in a row,” he said offhandedly as he assumed the stance Gerard had held a moment previously. Gerard let out a shaky laugh, _very_ aware of the flush in his cheeks. Unable to think of an intelligent response (or _any_ response for that matter), Gerard promptly left, keeping his head ducked so as not to meet Bert’s undoubtedly smug gaze as he wavered by the coffee station. Both of Gerard’s co-workers seemed to have a radar for when Gerard was being flusterd by Grant, meaning that he was often at the action end of the special smirk that formed whenever his friends noticed him floundering – which, to their credit, was _very_ often.

As much as Gerard had been able to dodge Bert’s brand of leering, he wasn’t able to avoid the broad grin Frank shot him as he passed him to get to the door.

“Have fun, Gee,” his friend hummed, wiggling his eyebrows at him. Gerard muttered something that sounded an awful lot like “get fucked” before finally leaving the café, looking forward to an hour of solitude so he could, at least, let the blush fade from his cheeks.

It wasn’t lost on Gerard how odd his daily ritual was. He sat in the window of the aptly named ‘ _Spring’_ Café, staring out at his own workplace as he sipped his vanilla latte and chewed thoughtfully on his bagel. He was too anxious to go home for lunch, in case he was suddenly needed to handle a rush, but _Spring_ was still far away enough that he really felt like he was taking a break.

Brushing the crumbs from his scarf, Gerard stared down at the sketchbook opened before him, dotted with faint black marks from where he’d tapped his pen impatiently against the surface as he awaited the tide of inspiration to capture him – to no avail. At thirty years of age, it was an understatement to say that _Lovely Biscuits_ wasn’t Gerard’s final stop on the career train – he had originally only intended for it to be a part-time job while he finished art school; somehow, one year had become two, and two had become eight, and he was reaching his tenth year of working at the establishment, and his seventh year of working with Grant as his boss. He would have been lying if he had said that the people he’d met while working at the café weren’t a large part of his lengthy stay – Frank had been the one who had trained him, and that had evidently turned out well.   
Or not, depending on your perspective.

Gerard sighed, closing the book as he admitted defeat once again. Some of his lunch breaks were lost in streaks of black poured onto the page as his creativity spilled from his pen in desperate waves – and other days, he was sat staring at his workplace, covered in bagel crumbs. The place had been renovated when Grant took over, most of the rock-themed décor coming from his influence, although the place still had an ‘indie’ vibe that Grant couldn’t shake, despite his best efforts to. Despite the stress it placed upon the proprietor, the Halloween party that was to come was not, by a long shot, the first time Grant had rented the space out. There were often live music events, or poetry nights, and even, on one occasion, a funeral. The benefit of the café was, undoubtedly, its décor and wide space, and the fact that while they didn’t _technically_ have an alcohol license, Grant was willing to turn a blind eye if customers came into their events drunk from having been at the bar up the road, or with discreet hipflasks of vodka. The latter was, likely, due to Grant’s penchant for getting drunk himself – it was more often than not that the three colleagues had to stuff their boss back into his office midway through the night, lest he embarrass himself in front of patrons.

Gerard chuckled to himself, taking another sip of his drink. Grant was so _chill_ day-to-day, it was easy to forget what an absolute liability he was when he drank – which was often, and a lot. Frank had, on a single occasion, asked Grant in a half-joking manner whether he had a drinking problem, but was only met with accent-warped grumbling about Americans and their weak livers. It didn’t, necessarily, answer the question, but it did prevent any of them from bringing the topic up again.

Gerard let out a hefty sigh as he swallowed the remnants of his drink, shoving the sketchbook back into his bag, and promptly leaving the rival café. He still had ten minutes left of his break, but he always felt a little bit guilty for leaving his colleagues to fend for themselves, so the early return – even if only minimal – was his way of justifying it.

As always, Gerard returned to find the café in a state of relative calm, despite his concerns. Bert had switched with Frank, so was now working the tables, while Frank took care of making coffee orders and handing out the pre-made sandwiches. Grant still stood on the till, working through the line that had begun to dwindle. At the sight of Gerard emerging through the door, the man’s face lit up, sending a shot of warmth through Gerard’s core – even though he knew Grant’s delight was sourced at the fact he no longer had to be customer facing, rather than anything else. Still, Gerard’s grin followed him through to the office, where he dumped his bag and scarf and re-affixed his apron. The room hadn’t been cleaned much from earlier that morning – just a haphazard shoving of papers into a folder, which had been swept to the side of the desk. Grant wasn’t especially _messy_ , just busy – evidenced by his near-daily groan at the disarray of his office, and equally frequent vows that he’d come in on his day off some time to tidy it (he never did).

Gerard tied the apron around his waist as he re-entered the café, glancing around for any obvious jobs he could devote his attention to. He was barely through the door before Grant had half-turned towards him, a pleading expression on his face.

“Gerard, can you take your till back? If I don’t go for a cigarette I’m going to expire,” he grinned, already moving back from the counter. Gerard rolled his eyes playfully, but dutifully took Grant’s place, earning the man placing both hands on Gerard’s shoulders and squeezing affectionately.

“You really are my man, huh?” he grinned. Gerard’s smile faltered, his eyes widening as he felt the familiar rush of warmth curl over his cheeks.

“Y-yeah. Yeah, always,” he smiled shakily. Grant blinked, seeming surprised by the somewhat solemn deliverance of Gerard’s retort, his own smile faltering slightly. Gerard shot him another half-smile, before he was – thankfully – distracted by the appearance of another customer. He only just about heard Grant telling Frank that he could go for lunch once he had returned from his own mini-break, and then his boss was gone, and Gerard could breathe again.

“You’re _obvious_ , Gee,” Frank hummed, glancing up from the latte he was drawing a bunny on in foam. Gerard shrugged, pressing his lips together as he punched in the total of the girl before him.

“I know. Fu-“ he paused, swallowing the curse down his throat before trying again, “Hell. He probably knows, right?” he smiled nervously back at Frank, before beckoning the next customer to come forward. Frank let out a sigh of a laugh

“I dunno, baby. I wouldn’t be surprised. Just play it cool if you’re not gonna be honest with him,” he murmured, leaning over to slide the latte onto the counter. Gerard pretended not to have heard him, instead becoming overly animated as he discussed the weather with the patron he was serving, and willing away the blush that still formed every time Frank called him “baby”.

“Sorry, miss, could you explain that again to me?” Gerard asked calmly, though his fingers gripped the counter beneath him hard enough for his knuckles to whiten. The woman before him clicked her tongue impatiently behind her red-lined lips, waving the receipt in his face

“I ordered my coffee thirty minutes ago, and it’s not _here_. People who ordered after me have been served first – is it _that_ hard to make a drink?”

Gerard swallowed, taking the receipt from her and scanning over it. She was right about the time – it _had_ been around a half hour since the order was punched through. He glanced up at her, noting the impatience that was fading to fury, and scanned the receipt again to give his eyes something to do that wasn’t looking into her thunderous eyes.

“Hey, Frankie?” Gerard squeaked, half-turning back to his friend who had, unsuccessfully, been hiding behind his machine so as not to get involved. Gerard shot him an apologetic smile and handed him the receipt

“This was put in during my lunch break – did this go out?” he asked, shifting a little between one heel and the other. Frank scanned over the receipt, and shrugged in a non-committal way.

“I think so – no reason why it wouldn’t have. Maybe Grant forgot to call it out – ask him when he gets back,” Frank suggested. He met Gerard’s gaze, his own eyes soft, “you got this?” he asked in an undertone. Gerard pressed his lips together and nodded, turning back to the customer who, to her credit, wasn’t yelling just yet.

“Sorry miss, um. I think –“ Gerard’s face paled as he saw it – the cup that rested on the counter, just next to the till, “I’m sorry, I think… I think this was yours,” he mumbled, pressing his fingers to the porcelain of the cup, wincing when they came away cold, “my manager must have forgotten to call it out for you, I’m sorry,” he stammered, fingers closing uselessly over the cup’s handle. The woman – perhaps rightfully so – let out a noise of frustration.

“So what are you going to do? Give me a cold coffee to drink now?” she snapped. Gerard gave a nervous laugh, the sound falling from his lips without his consent.

“No ma’am. If you’ll just give me a second, I can make you a new-

“I don’t have time for a new one. I want my money back,” she said sharply. Gerard nodded, sucking in a breath as he punched her order number into the machine.

“That’s fine, just give me one second and I can-

“ _More_ waiting?”

“Only a second… only a second,” Gerard mumbled, tapping his foot impatiently as the order loaded onto the screen. He grinned despite himself when it appeared – but the smile soon faded when he realised that he knew, exactly, how this next scene would go.

“You uh… you paid with your card, right?” he asked slowly, glancing up at her. The woman nodded, lips pressed into a tight line. Gerard nodded, offering her a soft smile.

“Okay, I can absolutely give you that refund – if you could just place your card into the machine there-

“Why? I already paid. I’m asking for a _re-fun-d_ ,” she retorted, dragging the word out as if to imply Gerard was too unintelligent to understand otherwise. He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat at her tone, keeping his faux smile stamped onto his face.

“Yeah, sorry – I need you to put your card in so I can process the refund. I can’t just send the money back, I need you to put your card in so the machine can verify the payment method,” he explained. He didn’t mean for his voice to be as monotonous as it was, but he knew that explaining was pointless. As it was, the woman’s face dropped, eyes narrowing as if Gerard had suggested that she drink her own shit.

“Why can’t you just give me cash?” she asked, “at least then I’ll know you’re not scamming me.”

“Ah – I can’t do that, unfortunately. To process the refund, I have to do it on the payment method you provided, which was your ca-

“So you’re trying to _steal_ my _money_?” she asked sharply, eyeing Gerard distrustfully. Gerard glanced to the line forming behind her, and the impatient faces of the yet un-served customers, some of them checking their watches as they peered over to see what was taking Gerard so long. He was aware that he looked like an idiot, and felt his stomach twist in embarrassment.

“No, of course I’m not, I just want to give you your money back, so if you just-“

Gerard hadn’t seen Grant re-appear from his cigarette break, but as he spoke, he felt the familiar warmth of the man’s hand on his shoulder. He should have been embarrassed by the way he melted into the touch, but was too overcome with relief to even consider Frank’s suggestion that he ‘play it cool’. On this occasion, his desire to have Grant near him had nothing to do with his crush on him, and everything to do with Grant’s track record of calming angry customers down.

“Hello, I served you earlier – is there something wrong with your order?” Grant asked smoothly, grip firm on Gerard’s shoulder. There was something vaguely possessive about it, but Gerard cut the thought off before it had a chance to spiral – now was _absolutely_ not the time to start fantasising.

“Um, Grant – this lady here ordered coffee and it was left on the counter and went cold – so I’m just giving her a refund but um…” Gerard gestured with his eyes down to the card machine. Gerard didn’t think that he was getting _too_ panicked by the confrontation, but Grant’s reassuring smile and steady grip suggested to him that he must have looked far less controlled than he thought he did.

“Ah – sorry ma’am, that’s my fault completely. Why don’t you go ahead and put your card in the machine there, and Gerard can process that refund for you,” he said, his voice holding a far more stern tone. Without really thinking about it, Gerard leaned back a little into Grant’s touch, almost sighing with relief when the other man kept his hold on him. He hadn’t _felt_ anxious, but now that he was being relieved, he thought he’d probably have fallen to the floor if Grant weren’t holding him up; even after almost a decade of the same thing every couple of weeks, Gerard never got any better at not internalising the negative interactions.

“Won’t it charge me twice?” the woman asked, her voice as tired as Gerard felt. Grant laughed, as if the notion was ridiculous.

“No, it won’t – and if it does, you can come back, and I will personally hand you the exact change out of the till, _and_ give you a free drink,” he said, holding his free hand up in a pledge, “I swear.”

Even with Grant’s reassurance, the woman still cast Gerard a distrustful look as she slid her card into the machine and punched her PIN number in. Grant leaned over Gerard to press the necessary buttons, and it was all Gerard could do to not nuzzle into his neck as the husky scent of his cologne hit him. Even as Grant worked the till, he didn’t take his hand off of Gerard’s arm, seeming comfortable to just let it sit there in wordless support.

Few words were exchanged with the customer after that – she was apparently appeased by Grant’s handling of the situation, and promptly left. Only when the door had closed behind her, did Grant drop the hand from Gerard’s shoulder.

“Are you alright, Gerard? Sorry I didn’t help you quicker – you looked like you had it,” he murmured into his ear. Gerard tried to suppress his shiver, turning it into a thankful smile.

“I thought I did until you came. How do you _do_ that?” he asked. Grant raised his eyebrows, lips curling up as he watched Gerard.

“How do I do _what_?”

“You know… hypnotise people like that,” Gerard mumbled. Grant laughed loudly, head falling back as his form shook with the force of his amusement. Gerard briefly glanced to Frank, who rolled his eyes at him – but softened the gesture with an affectionate smile.

“Is that what you think, Gerard?” Grant asked suddenly, calling Gerard’s attention back to him, and the curious expression that curled around his eyes. Gerard froze, eyes widening in far more fear than the angry customer could have ever manifested.

“Um, sorry?” he asked nervously, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“You find me hypnotising?” Grant asked coolly, eyes seeming to search Gerard’s face, making him feel absolutely _scrutinised_ , despite the apparent casual nature of their discussion. Gerard felt cold pinpricks of terror slide up his spine, as if his pain receptors were able to pick up the “I fucked up” feeling and turn it into something palpable. Grant smiled when he found his employee speechless, dispelling the moment by clapping Gerard on the arm.

“I’m messing with you. Get back to work,” he smiled, giving his arm a final squeeze as he stepped away.

Had he been alone, Gerard would likely have taken a moment to collect himself and ponder over the _what the fuck_ feeling he was experiencing – but customers had to be fed, so he slapped his customer service smile back onto his lips and returned to taking orders, trying to shake the uncanny feeling that he had, perhaps, just been flirted with.

“Why do we keep inviting him out?” Gerard asked, looking across the table at Bert who, two beers in, had lost the ability to read the drinks menu, and was asking Gerard, between giggles, what “tee-kee-lah sewers” were. Frank shrugged, tilting his drink towards Bert before taking a long, pensive sip

“Because if it were just you and I alone, I’d jump your bones after a couple of shots?” he teased, nudging Gerard playfully. Gerard nodded, sipping his own drink slowly.

“I thought as much. Though there’s an argument to be made of him being our token straight friend. We can’t _only_ hang out with gay people, I guess,” he hummed. Frank nodded in absolute agreement, sitting back on his chair. _Network_ was the biggest bar in their town – and, being the _only_ bar of any real substance, that wasn’t saying a hell of a lot. The décor was vaguely reminiscent of an old pirate ship, with high beams and wooden accents throughout – but no effort had been made, otherwise, to maintain a nautical theme; in fact, most of the furnishings were mismatched, as if the proprietor had collected the pieces gradually from any number of second-hand stores over the years. For all they knew, that was absolutely the case. Regardless of its unkempt appearance, _Network_ had cheap drinks and was close enough to their workplace that Bert, Frank, and Gerard didn’t have to go too far out of their way to access it.

Bert glanced up when he heard their discussion, frowning.

“Hey, hey. Who said anything about me being strictly _straight_ , huh? Don’t… label me,” he mumbled, eyebrows furrowing, “and secondly – who’s the alternative? _Grant_? Cause we know if we invited Grant out, Gerard would just… he’d just cum everywhere,” Bert muttered. Frank giggled, hiding behind his glass to try and disguise it. Now it was Gerard’s term to huff in annoyance, smacking Frank on the arm

“Fuck you, no I wouldn’t”

“Oh _please_ Gerard. That whole thing earlier – saying you’re hypnotised by him-

“That’s not what I said!” Gerard insisted, spilling some of his drink in his haste to defend himself. Frank snorted, waving a hand dismissively

“Whatever. You know he probably knows, right? He never used to flirt with you like that, but the last few months…” Frank whistled, taking another long sip of beer. Gerard was relieved that the lights were so dim, so his blush wouldn’t be _as_ luminescent as it usually would be.

“Flirting? You think he flirts with me, Frankie?” he asked, voice little more than a squeak. Frank shot him a look that screamed ‘duh’.

“I don’t know if he _means_ anything by it, so don’t get all excited. But he always seems to be around you these days. And you already know what he said about you blushing-

“Wait, wait, _I_ don’t know. What did he say?” Bert asked, just about sober enough to be able to follow the conversation. Frank grinned.

“Gee, you tell him. I know you remember,” he said triumphantly. Gerard sighed, swallowing the last of his drink before meeting Bert’s gaze.

“Um. On my day off a while back… Grant made a comment to Frank about the fact I blush a lot, and he said it was cute,”

“Don’t stop there, Gee,” Frank prompted, shoving at his ex-lover’s back. Gerard scowled, but met Bert’s (hazy) eyes again

“And he said that a blush like mine is uh… dangerous. Which _Frank_ took to mean that it was tempting him or something, but I think he means that I wear my heart on my cheeks. Which I do,” he mumbled.

Bert, beer-sodden as he was, had more or less lost interest, but grinned at Gerard.

“Y’know, I’ve never seen him show interest in anyone before, so it’s hard to tell. He’s never commented on anyone being attractive either way. So maybe he’s not even gay,” Bert shrugged, “you guys have been working with him for longer than me – why haven’t you just asked if he likes dick or not?” he asked crudely. Frank snorted.

“We’ve _tried_. He’s always cryptic, you know? He’ll just mutter something about humans being complex, or some other Grant-brand bullshit. I think he’s at _least_ bi-curious. But I guess the worst case scenario is that he knows Gerard likes him and finds it cute, which isn’t that bad a scenario,”

“For you, maybe. For me it’s humiliating. Can we talk about something else?” Gerard grumbled, pushing his glass away from him. Bert staggered to his feet, wallet in hand.

“I’m gonna get another round – same as before, boys?” he grinned wolfishly. Frank nodded, swallowing the final dregs of his own drink.

“Sure – but act _sober_ , dummy, you don’t wanna get thrown out again,” he warned. Bert waved off the warning, making his way in a beeline to the bar. Once he was gone, Gerard slid his hand into Frank’s, the touch seeming to relax him.

“Some day I’m gonna tell you that you can’t do that anymore,” Frank warned, but he was grinning, and didn’t _seem_ upset. Gerard nodded, resting his head on his friend’s shoulder.

“I know. Just drinking it in while you’re letting me,” he smiled. They sat in silence for a few moments, finding an odd, satisfying peace in just sitting together, the music pulsing slowly around them.

“Hey – you been working on your portfolio?” Frank asked suddenly, causing Gerard to pull away from him. The other man gave a short, bitter laugh.

“No, not really. I know I should, I just… I can’t find inspiration anywhere, you know? I think I’m too _content_. Maybe I should go back to being reckless, then I can maybe at least get enough creativity together to get into a job,” he mumbled. Frank shook him slightly

“Don’t talk like that – you’ve come a long way. Your creativity will find you when it’s ready – you just gotta be patient. And in the meantime, you get to work with me every day,” he beamed. Gerard didn’t even get a chance to reply before there was a sound of a commotion, and Bert crossed his line of vision, being escorted out by a tall security guard, her hair in a hard bun at the base of her skull. Despite her firmness, she was smiling – and so was Bert.

“I’m sorry you gotta do this every time, Wendy,” he said, sounding almost genuinely remorseful. The guard, Wendy, just shook her head in disdain as she led him to the doors

“Maybe don’t cause trouble every time, and I can get through my shift without kicking you out,” she replied coolly. Gerard and Frank shared a mutual look of both amusement and exhaustion as they rose from their seats, walking still hand-in-hand to the door.

“Maybe we _should_ invite Grant instead,” Frank mumbled, squeezing Gerard’s hand before he let go, “then we can have more than two drinks before having to leave.”   
Gerard just laughed, giving a half-hearted wave to Wendy, who waved back just as cordially.

“Make sure he gets home okay,” she sighed, gesturing to Bert, who was leaning against the wall, giggling to himself. Frank wrapped his arm around his friend’s waist, and Gerard took the arm on the other side

“Yeah, we know the drill. See you next time,” Gerard said, the apology wrought through his tone as they heaved Bert up to stand properly on his feet, and began the walk to his apartment.

“She’s nice to me, you know. Maybe I’ll take her out some time,” Bert hummed happily as his friends guided him down the road. Frank laughed, shaking his head.

“Don’t think she’d stoop to your level, beer-guts,” he teased. Perhaps if he were sober, Bert would have been even vaguely insulted, but all he did was laugh softly in apparent agreement, leaning heavily on Gerard’s shoulder; something about the sound was infectious, because within moments, all three of them were laughing, the sound travelling ahead of them down the road like a fanfare announcing the arrival of their joyous, tipsy party.


	3. Chapter 3

Gerard wasn’t awoken by his alarm that Wednesday morning. The sun was shining uncharacteristically brightly for the cold, October morning, juxtaposed by the near-constant rattle of the window frames, which Gerard had learned to tune out while he slept. Still, it wasn’t the brilliant sun glistening through his thin curtains that awoke him from his slumber, either. On that particular Wednesday morning, Gerard was awoken by the presence of a heavy weight on his chest, and the sudden wet swipe of a large tongue along his mouth and nose.

Gerard jolted up with a gasp, eyes wide and alarmed at the unusual sensation. The blankets curled around his form, exacerbating the feeling of pressure on his body as they constricted his legs. Kicking wildly, Gerard suddenly became acutely aware of a figure on the bed with him – a figure who was _very_ excited to see him.

“Stevie! Hey girl, hey baby-“ he cooed, voice still hoarse from sleep as he wrapped his arms around his dog’s neck, feeling his previous panic melt slowly out of him. At realising her owner was awake and ready to give her the attention she deserved, the dog let out a triumphant yelp, pushing her large nose into Gerard’s face to sniff him insistently.

“Frankie?” he called, voice shaking with laughter as the large, tan-coloured pitbull sniffed and licked around his face. Frank strode into the room, grinning boldly at his ex.

“Hey, baby. Was gonna wake you up with kisses myself, but thought Stevie would do a better job,” he smirked. Gerard rolled his eyes good-naturedly, pressing kisses to his dog’s face, ignoring the way her rapidly-wagging tail slammed painfully against his shins.

“You gotta stop breaking in here, Frank,” Gerard grumbled, but couldn’t muster enough genuine anger for it to manifest in his tone. Frank whistled, causing the dog to abandon Gerard and return to Frank’s side excitedly, jumping up at his legs, her great paws resting on his hip.

“Let’s let your Mommy get dressed, and we’ll make him some coffee, huh?” he cooed. Gerard laughed, flipping Frank the finger as he rolled out of bed.

“I’m _not_ the Mom, Frank, don’t make me argue with you about this,” he huffed, stretching upwards with a wide yawn, “if anything, _you_ were always the girl, right?” he grinned, eyes twinkling with mischief. Frank’s face fell into a scowl, and he pressed his hands gently over Stevie’s floppy ears.

“No sex talk in front of the baby, Gee. You’re a horrible Mommy,” he teased. He stepped back, patting his leg to encourage Stevie to follow him out into the kitchen – which she did without hesitation.

Gerard chuckled to himself as he dug around in his drawers, pulling on some jeans and a mostly-clean sweater. As part of their break up, Gerard had agreed to partial custody of their dog – meaning he was allowed to have her on the one day a week Frank was working while Gerard was not. The agreement had previously been that Frank would call Gerard from outside his apartment so Frank could drop her off on his way to work, but that had somehow developed into Frank breaking in to Gerard’s apartment and letting the dog run wild until Gerard woke up and noticed.

Now dressed, Gerard made his way into the kitchen where Frank was brewing coffee. He stood in the doorway, worrying his lip with his teeth; he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss this, sometimes. Frank humming to himself as he poured sugar and milk into their respective mugs, Stevie yapping excitedly around his legs as everyone began their day. Waking up with Frank had always been peaceful – it had been a pocket of joy before reality seeped in and dragged them into the real world. Even that wasn’t so bad, because Gerard knew he’d be going home with the cutest guy he knew, spending the evening wrapped in each other’s arms until they fell asleep, and awoke the next day to do it all again. Gerard didn’t _regret_ leaving Frank very often – but that moment, right then, he felt uncertainty creep along his spine.

“Hey, that was quick,” Frank noted, turning towards his friend with a bright grin, “coffee’s ready,” he noted, hopping up on the counter to drink his own. Gerard smiled softly, scratching Stevie’s ears as he walked past her, leaning against the opposite counter as he sipped his drink.

“What shift are you on today? Not opening?” he asked, dark eyes watching Frank curiously over the rim of his cup. Frank checked his watch, taking another large gulp of coffee.

“All day, as usual. I should probably be there already but couldn’t resist seeing my favourite guy,” he beamed. Gerard felt his stomach drop, but didn’t comment as he sipped his coffee.

“Grant’s gonna be mad at you,” Gerard smiled teasingly. Frank snorted, rolling his eyes

“I could turn up three hours late and Grant wouldn’t notice. Hell, he’d probably be happy for the lack of noise,” he grinned. Gerard nodded in silent agreement, focusing his attention on the warm mug cupped between his hands. It was too early for the existentialism that was taking place in his brain, so he deigned to simply ignore it.

“You picking up Stevie on your way home, or should I bring her by the café?” he asked finally, keeping his eyes on the dog as she chewed happily on the toy Frank had brought with him. Frank was suspiciously quiet for a moment, his own eyes trained firmly on the dog, as if either of them looking away would cause her to disappear.

“I thought maybe you could drop her off, and we could… have dinner together. It’s been a while since we’ve done that,” Frank murmured, risking a glance at Gerard. Even after two years of separation, it was difficult for the pair to work out where their boundaries lay, leaving one or the other at risk of fearing they’d overstepped. Gerard gave him an easy smile, shrugging as he set his cup aside.

“That sounds good to me. I can pick something up on my way over if you want,” he murmured, trying to keep his tone as light and casual as he could. Frank beamed, relief rolling off of him in palpable waves that made Gerard’s heart clench.

“Yeah? Yeah, that sounds perfect,” Frank replied brightly. The pair stood in content silence for a few moments, each drinking their own coffee as their dog chewed excitedly on her toy, eyes flicking happily between her two owners. Gerard wondered, offhandedly, if she preferred having them together like this – or did she not notice? Was he over-analysing his dog as a means of working out the knots in his brain that formed every time he thought too hard about his situation with Frank?

Yes. Of course he was.

“Hey babe, I’m gonna get going,” Frank said suddenly, setting his empty mug on the counter, “I’m already going to be late.”

“Yeah, yeah of course,” Gerard mumbled, setting his own mug aside. Stevie sat up as soon as her owners showed movement, her toy clamped in her jaws as her tail began to wag gently. Frank smiled, leaning down to kiss her on her large head.

“Be good, girl,” he murmured into her fur, tousling her ears before shooting a grin at Gerard.

“Alright – see you tonight, Gee. Shall I give Grant your love?” he teased, sauntering over to the door. Gerard groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Shut _up_ or I’ll stand you up,” he grumbled, leaning on the doorframe as Frank tugged his shoes on. The other man laughed softly as he pulled his jacket on, waving one last time to their dog.

“Take good care of Mommy, Stevie!” he called, dancing out the door before Gerard could grab him and smack him.

Door closing gently behind his friend, Gerard set his sights on the dog, who was now padding over to him, toy hung loosely in her mouth. Gerard sighed, leaning down to scratch behind her ear.

“Glad you’re here, cutie,” he murmured, pressing a few warm kisses over her snout, and feeling oddly comforted by the way she nosed gently against his jaw.

The park which sat almost directly between Gerard’s home and his workplace was split into three, large areas – a child’s play park, a field which banked onto a lake, and the larger wooded area which surrounded the other two. On most occasions, Gerard had no real reason to visit, accept on the few occasions he managed to trick himself into considering that the fresh air would promote his creativity – which almost always proved to be to no avail. With an apartment far too small to accommodate the large dog for very long, however, the park was a godsend for the days in which Stevie was under his care, allowing her to stretch her legs without tumbling into furniture, and giving both her, and Gerard himself, a view that wasn’t just grey wall.

Although she only visited this particular park once a week, the dog seemed to know exactly where she was going, tugging harshly on the leash as soon as she and Gerard had passed through the main doorway of his building. Gerard muttered his disgruntlement under his breath, keeping a firm grip on the leash as he tried to coax her down to a slower pace. The weather was uncharacteristically warm for October, but with a soft breeze that sent slivers of cold inside Gerard’s jacket sleeves, and around the patch of pale skin exposed between his sock and jeans; he was in no rush to get anywhere, deigning to watch the world move around him as he walked leisurely down the familiar street. Stevie got the message only a few minutes into the walk, slowing her eager rush to a gentle trot, glancing up at Gerard every other moment for some validation that she was doing well – which he gave happily, with little scratches to the top of her head with the hand that wasn’t holding the leash. By the time the pair reached the park, Stevie’s tail was wagging wildly, her mouth stretched into a grin as she fought the urge to immediately bolt away from her owner.

Gerard chuckled to himself as he found a free bench near the segment of the park that was near the river, sitting down gently upon the faintly wet metal, wincing as he felt the dampness brush against his skin through his pants.

“Alright, alright, you dopey thing,” he smiled. He pressed the button that would allow Stevie’s leash to extend a few feet outwards, and watched as she raced off across the field, her excited bark reverberating through the nearby trees. While there were few people, and even fewer other dogs nearby, Gerard wasn’t prepared to let Stevie get chomped on by another dog on his watch, so he held the leash firmly between his thighs as she explored the wooded area, sniffing excitedly at the grass and tree stumps she encountered. Some other owners were sat on the grass, reading books or having a bite to eat while their dogs explored, but having a pitbull unattended was just asking for trouble. Stevie wasn’t the kind to attack other dogs, but he knew that if it came to a fight, she’d win, and he’d have to deal with _that_ unfortunate aftermath. Besides – watching his dog carelessly hop around the grass, drinking the fresh water from the river, and rolling around in the mud was more fun than any book could provide him, and he cherished this time with her.

“Hey, Stevie! Stevie!” he called, drawing her toy out of his bag and giving it a firm squeeze. The dog’s head whipped around almost comically quickly, her tongue lolling out of her mouth as she raced towards him. Unfortunately, the man who was crossing Gerard’s path at that exact moment didn’t see the leash which extended from Gerard to the dog, and was soon on the receiving end of a large dog slamming into his knees. With a cry as he dropped his phone into the muddy grass below, the man bent over, grasping his shin, hissing something under his breath which, to Gerard, sounded like an angry curse. Stevie stopped in her tracks, barking loudly to alert Gerard to the fact that something had happened – as if he wasn’t already aware. Already on his feet and jogging over, Gerard felt his heart pound erratically in his chest as fear ran through him: this is what he’d been worried about. Stevie hadn’t done anything wrong, but she was a big dog, and when people got hurt by big dogs, it never went well. By the time Gerard reached the other man, Stevie was sniffing around him, nudging his hand with her small, wet nose, seeming to be showing concern in her own way.

“Hey, shit, I’m sorry, she’s not dangerous, I promise, she’s just dopey, she was focused on running back to me-“ Gerard began, words leaving him in a choked huff of nervous breath. The man frowned, glancing up at Stevie, and then Gerard. There was a moment which hung dangerously above Gerard’s head as he waited for the other man’s reaction, tempted to just grab Stevie by the collar and run away before his dog’s accidental victim could ask for his details.

And then the other man smiled.

“It’s not her fault, I should’ve been looking,” he said simply, lifting a hand and scratching behind Stevie’s ears. The dog barked happily, tail wagging when she understood that the man she’d assaulted was okay. Gerard let out a shaking, relieved breath, offering the man his hand.

“Hey, it’s okay – happens to everyone. I’m Gerard,” he smiled brightly.

“Adam,” the man replied as he allowed himself to be hoisted to his feet. Now that Gerard wasn’t terrified of his dog being taken from him, he noticed how undeniably _attractive_ the other man was. He was tall, with a mane of brown hair that fell to his shoulders in thick waves, with a soft, short beard of the same colour. His brown eyes sparkled as the sun hit them, and he fumbled a little to grab the sunglasses that had been hanging from his collar, and place them onto his face.

“Are you okay, Adam?” Gerard asked, suddenly a lot more shy than he had been before. Adam grinned, reaching down to rub Stevie’s head.

“I’m okay. I hope I didn’t hurt…” he broke off, gesturing with his head down to the dog, who was rubbing her face against his calf.

“Oh, that’s Stevie,” he said simply. At the sound of her name, the dog approached Gerard, jumping up so her paws rested on his hip. Adam’s smile widened, revealing a row of straight, white teeth.

“Stevie? As in Wonder?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Nicks,” Gerard corrected, with a faint blush. Adam made an ‘ahhhh’ sound of understanding, grinning as the dog patted Gerard’s hip with her paws, trying to get his attention.

“She’s cute. I used to have a big dog like her – not a pit, though. I’ve heard they’re real sweethearts,”

“They are. My ex boyfriend had one when we first met, and he was the sweetest. When that one passed, we got Stevie together,” he informed Adam – and then frowned at his own proclivity for over-sharing with strangers. The other man, even from behind his darkened glasses, looked deeply amused.

“Boyfriend, huh? I didn’t realise this place had a gay scene,” he teased. Gerard blushed, realising the potential downfall of him disclosing his sexuality to random strangers – even if those strangers were extremely attractive and nice to his dog.

“Oh, um… I mean there isn’t… a _scene_ or any-

“I’m joking. Sorry. I just find it… attractive, I guess, when guys are open like that. It’s nice,” Adam smiled. At the flash of the other man’s teeth, Gerard felt his chest squeeze – he really was very, very attractive.

“Oh, so you’re…uh-“

“A big flaming homosexual? You bet,” Adam grinned, eyes drifting to Stevie, who was still excitedly looking between the pair. He glanced up, brown eyes peeking over the rim of his sunglasses, and beamed. Gerard looked deliciously flustered, his cheeks reddened, his hands shoved awkwardly in his pockets; there was something very, very endearing about it all.

“Guess your pup knew what she was doing when she knocked me over, huh?” Adam said coolly. Gerard looked at him suddenly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He couldn’t see Adam’s eyes properly through the sunglasses, and the enigma of it all drew him in, even more than the man’s blatant attractiveness.

“What do you mean?” he asked shyly, letting his eyes flit down to his dog, as if she would be able to save him from the awkwardness he was _certainly_ instilling. If Adam felt the palpable discomfort, though, he didn’t mention it, but instead held his hand out.

“Gimme your phone,” he said sharply – laughing when Gerard looked startled, his hand finding Stevie’s collar, “no, Gerard – gimme your phone so I can put my number into it. I’m not robbing you, honest,” he grinned. Gerard felt heat flood his cheeks as he dug his phone out of his pocket, thrusting it out to the attractive man in front of him. Why on _Earth_ did he want to give Gerard his _number_? Adam was confident, beautiful, filled with sun and the haze of the wind through the forest, and leather and _sex_. Gerard was… well, Gerard was thirty years old and sharing a dog with his ex boyfriend. In the time it took Gerard to have his internal crisis, Adam had punched his number into his phone, and then called his own phone, so he had Gerard’s number, too. He handed the device back, flashing another brilliant smile.

“See? I didn’t steal it. You don’t need to set your – ah – terrifying guard dog on me,” he teased, gesturing to where Stevie had shifted onto her back and was rolling happily in the dirt between them. Gerard laughed shakily, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“So, Gerard. Are you free tomorrow night?” Adam asked coolly. Gerard considered the question – Thursdays were the evenings where Frank and Grant took note of all the stock and did their weekly order of supplies, meaning that Gerard and Bert often left early, as decided by Grant’s eagerness to shoo their mathematically deficient selves out of the store as early as possible. Gerard smiled weakly.

“I finish work at four,” he said softly, finally glancing up from his shoes. The smile was still plastered on Adam’s face, and Gerard wondered absently if the man _ever_ stopped grinning.

“Okay, that’s perfect – text me your address tonight, and I’ll pick you up at six. Is that cool?” he asked, running a hand through his hair. Even if Gerard had _considered_ saying no (he hadn’t), the firm muscles of the man’s arm as he raised it above his head would have stopped Gerard dead in his tracks.

“Yeah – yeah, that sounds good to me. I won’t have Stevie though, she lives with my ex,” he explained softly, chewing his lip. Adam laughed loudly, shaking his head in something akin to awe.

“I’m not asking you out for the dog – though, she is very cute. I’m just a bit unfamiliar with town, and I like being around cute guys. Are those two good enough reasons for you?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow up. Gerard nodded, finally managing a bright smile of his own.

“Very good reasons,” he conceded, pressing his lips together. Adam reached down, patting Stevie gently on the head, before stepping back.

“Until tomorrow, then, Gerard. I’m looking forward to it,” he smirked, half-raising his hand in a wave as he continued walking in the direction he had been before Stevie tripped him up.

For a moment, all Gerard could do was watch him walk away, jaw practically hanging open in the face of his own good luck.

“Shit, Stevie. You may have just got me laid,” he laughed. Stevie, of course, was more interested in the toy that was poking out of Gerard’s bag, and cared very little for her owner’s romantic or sexual escapades.

“Oh, yeah – here you go. Good girl,” he grumbled, throwing the toy as far as he could, and watching as Stevie raced after it. He laughed softly to himself, walking slowly back to the bench.

“ _Good_ girl, Stevie,” he breathed.

Frank’s apartment – which had once, also, been Gerard’s apartment – sat in a quiet cul-du-sac amongst other, identical-looking apartment buildings, all with fresh gardens in the front. In the spring, the area bloomed with sweet-smelling flowers which lined the brick road and spread out overhead as the trees reached their flower-swirled arms into the sky, catching the birds that made their home amongst the foliage. Right now, though, the trees were almost entirely bare, a thick carpet of orange and red scattered across the pathway, the only sparse areas being the driveways which had been lovingly cleared. Gerard remembered when he and Frank had first viewed this place – they’d fallen in love with it immediately, talking about how perfect it would be to bring their eventual children up within such a quiet, beautiful neighbourhood. With that nostalgia lingering around him, Gerard shifted the bag of Chinese food in his arm so he could ring the doorbell. Stevie was worn out from her time at the park, but she noticeably brightened when they got near to her home, and by now, was pacing excitedly, eyes fixed on the door.

Frank greeted them only a few moments later. The warm of the apartment flooded out, hitting Gerard almost instantly, as his friend’s body appeared, bathed in the overhead light of the hallway.

“Hey, you’re here! That was super quick,” he noted, stepping back to allow Gerard in. Frank was still working his work clothes sans apron, his black shirt partially untucked, the black fabric curling around the bulge of his ink-swirled arms. He looked _good_ – he always did. Gerard smiled shyly, leaning down to take Stevie’s leash off of her collar. Immediately, the dog bolted into her home, not even stopping to greet Frank before making a beeline to her bed. From the distance, Gerard could hear her excited barking and the faint sound of squeaking as she reunited with the toys she had been cruelly separated from. Frank shook his head, smiling warmly at Gerard.

“Thanks for getting dinner, Gee. Come on in,” he said, gesturing for Gerard to pass him. As he did, Gerard couldn’t help but note the familiar, warm tones of his cologne, and the scent that was distinctively _Frank_ that clung to him.

“Don’t worry about it. Thanks for inviting me over,” he replied coolly, inwardly cursing himself for being so _gay_ all the time. From his pining over his ex, his unyielding crush on his boss, and the way he’d acted around Adam at the park, anyone would guess that Gerard was absolutely hopeless around men.   
Which, as it happened, he was.

Frank pried the bag of food from Gerard’s hand while he was distracted, and perhaps he said something that Gerard didn’t hear over the blood rushing through his ears. All Gerard knew was that, within a minute, he was alone again in the threshold of his old home. He glanced down, noting the pair of boots he’d left two years earlier, but always forgot to bring home with him. He noticed the spaces in between Frank’s pairs of shoes, where his would have usually sat, and wondered if leaving the gaps was symbolic, or habitual; he wondered if there was a difference.

In an effort to snap himself out of his melancholy, Gerard shot Adam a text with his address, and debated adding some nicety like “excited to see you” on the end. Ultimately, he was self-aware enough of his own hopelessness that he decided against it, but did send a couple of x’s by means of compromise. In Gerard’s (limited) experience, guys like Adam didn’t reply straight away, so he tucked his phone in his back pocket and joined Frank in the main room of what had once been the setting of their future.

“Grant asked about you today, by the way,” Frank said casually, mouth full of mushroom chow mein. In a motion that was almost embarrassingly responsive, Gerard sat up straight, eyes zero-ing in on Frank.

“He did?” he asked slowly, swallowing the noodles that were in his mouth. Frank nodded, eyes alight with amusement upon his friend’s reaction.

“Yeah. Really lamenting over you, buddy – I think he _cried_ because you weren’t there,” he hummed thoughtfully, lips twitching upwards despite the solemn expression he tried to maintain. Gerard rolled his eyes, narrowing them in both mock anger and very genuine anticipation.

“ _Frankie_ ,”

“He just asked how you were doing. He said you’d seemed a little out of it yesterday, and wanted to make sure you were alright. I told him that you were fighting the massive boner you always get whenever he speaks to you, and that you had to focus your energy so you didn’t blow a load into someone’s iced latte,” he said casually, his tone almost convincing were it not for the twinkle in his eye. Gerard shot him an exasperated look, sighing despite the soft smirk on his face.

“Oh good, you didn’t say anything _too_ outlandish, then. I thought you told him that I was endlessly in love with him,” Gerard mumbled, eyes back on his food.

“No, I thought I’d leave that to you, I wouldn’t want to overstep,” Frank retorted cheerfully. Gerard would have, perhaps, replied with the retort of the century, had his phone not buzzed loudly from his back pocket. Gerard realised that it was either Grant, Bert, his own little brother, or Adam – and he didn’t like the chances that he’d blush upon opening the message.

“Aren’t you gonna check that?” Frank asked casually, wiping some sweet-and-sour sauce off his chin with the back of his hand. Gerard shifted uncomfortably as the phone gave a second insistent buzz.

“Um. No, that’d be rude,” he mumbled. The damage was already done, though, and Gerard could feel the heat rising to his face. Frank glanced at him from the corner of his eye, eyebrows slowly raising in surprise.

“Mmm, got something to hide, Gee?” he asked sweetly, eyes darting down to Gerard’s back pocket. Gerard laughed, the sound too-high and riddled with anxiety.

“No, not at all. I just… don’t want to check my phone while we’re hanging out,” he mumbled, shoving some noodles into his mouth to give him a momentary reprieve. By then, Frank’s curious glance had turned into a full-on grin of amusement, his eyes narrowed accusingly.

“Gee, we lived together for _years_ , and we work together every day. Bull _shit_ do you not wanna be rude. You texting a guy?” he asked coolly. Gerard opened his mouth to explain, but closed it almost immediately. It’s not that neither he nor Frank had dated in the last couple of years, but it was almost always on a don’t-ask-don’t-tell basis, and the frivolity of this particular conquest made Gerard a little uneasy at the prospect of sharing it with his ex. Still, the fiery glint in Frank’s eyes didn’t look like it was nearing its extinguishment any time soon, and Gerard _knew_ that this conversation would follow him to work the next day unless he addressed it now, and he would much rather get it over with in private than have Frank air his dirty laundry in front of Grant.

“I met a guy at the park. Well… Stevie met him, she knocked him over. It’s all kind of a blur, actually – he didn’t _ask_ me out, so much as he _told me_ we were going out. It was nice to have that sort of… assertiveness. And he’s really attractive,” Gerard said, finally relinquishing – although the final sentence was mumbled into his food. Gerard expected to see some sort of negative response from Frank, but on the contrary, his friend’s smile broadened.

“That’s great, Gee! That’s really great, I’m glad you’ve found someone interesting. When are you hanging out?”

“Um. Tomorrow, after work. Obviously I’m finishing early, so he’s gonna pick me up and take me- I actually don’t _know_ where he’s taking me,”

“Huh. So while I’m locked into the shop with Grant, counting coffee beans, my ex boyfriend is gonna be getting his ass railed by some handsome dog park stranger?” Frank teased. There was a barely detectable tremor to his tone, but Gerard dismissed it in the interests of civility.

“I’m not gonna be getting anything railed, we’re just gonna hang out,” Gerard mumbled, pressing the back of his hand to his own reddened cheek. Frank laughed, any unease clearing from his expression as he stabbed a spring roll with his chopstick.

“Well, I’m happy for you, and I wanna hear all about it. Taking stock is gonna suck even _harder_ now that I know I’m missing out on a scandal,” he teased. Gerard scoffed, shaking his head.

“You’re gonna be locked in a confined space with _Grant_. I can’t imagine that being boring at all. I wish I was better at math so I could help out,” he grumbled, “if my teachers had told me that learning how to count would help me get close to my future sexy boss, I’d have paid attention.”

“ _Please_ , you’re not even gonna think about him. You’re gonna come back to work on Friday, all post-sex glow, and not even notice him.”

Gerard laughed softly, shooting Frank a look of disbelief.

“That seems unlikely – but I like your optimism. It would be nice to have an actual crush instead of just…pining all the time,” he agreed. Frank nudged him playfully.

“And then I can take a swing at him once you’re not infatuated anymore. You know how much I love super old dudes who I can’t understand,” he hummed happily. Gerard giggled, giving Frank another eye-roll.

“Sure, Frankie. If I stop being _obsessed_ with Grant, you can take as much of a swing at him as your little heart desires.”  
“I’ll hold you to it,” Frank winked, popping a mushroom into his mouth.

Once Frank was both assuaged and distracted, Gerard tugged his phone out of his pocket, barely containing his groan when his gaze met the message sitting in the center of his blue-lit screen.

It had, after all, just been his brother texting him.


	4. Chapter 4

The coffee curled in the off-white mug cupped in Gerard’s hands, nuances of white, gold, and deep brown coalescing and foaming beneath his lips, warmth radiating through the porcelain, reddening the thumbs he kept pressed against the cup’s surface despite the near-unbearable heat. The last customer slipped out of the door, a breath of cool air from outside slipping into the café to announce the end of the lunch rush. Somewhere from behind him, Gerard could hear Frank asking Grant to leave for his break, and Grant approving his request: but he hardly paid attention, his mind focused for now on the breath of smoke from his mug pressed against his throat, the hard counter against this elbows, and the gentle swell of the music as it hummed throughout the newly deserted store.

“You look relaxed,” Grant said, a smile on his lips as he leaned on the counter beside Gerard, elbow a distractingly close distance to Gerard’s own arm.

“There’s something about the calm after the storm that makes me feel like there’s never been a storm at all. I’m… zen,” Gerard smiled, finally taking a sip from his mug. His tongue immediately tried to dart back from the hot liquid, but he swallowed it down anyway, sighing at the bitter heat as it inflamed his throat. Grant chuckled, keeping his eyes on Gerard as the other man found solace in his mug,

“I’ve never felt zen a day in my life, Gerard. Perhaps you will have to teach me your ways; I’d probably have a full head of hair if I knew how to de-stress as quickly as you,” he teased. Grant’s arm was suddenly pressed completely against Gerard’s, his skin cool and brushed with delicate, fine hairs. Gerard wasn’t sure which of them had been the one to close the distance between them, but tried, for his own sake, to assume it had been him.

But even if that was the case, Grant wasn’t moving away. In fact, he seemed content to stand as he was, arm pressed against Gerard’s, feeling the warmth that radiated through his body as the other man continued to swallow the liquid in his mug.

“Then you’d lose all your charm. Who wants a guy with a head of hair? Not me,” Gerard replied – a little boldly, perhaps. Grant just laughed – if he noticed the implications of the statement, he didn’t reference them.

“You’re right there,” he murmured, finally moving his arm away from Gerard’s as he stood up straight, glancing across the café which now bore the tell-tale destruction of a busy lunch period, “the place is a mess,” he noted.

Gerard sighed, nodding sagely as he took another deep, pondering sip.

“I’ll handle it. Lemme just…” Gerard mumbled, closing his eyes as if that alone could dispel the disarray before him. Had he opened his eyes, Gerard would have, perhaps, noticed the look of contemplation Grant cast upon him, a slow smile spreading across the older man’s lips

“I’ll let you live within your zen for a few more moments. If a customer comes in and sees this shit, you’re fired, though,” he teased. Gerard opened his eyes, glancing over to his boss just in time to see the tail-end of the speculative gaze. Something in Grant’s eyes glimmered in the faint light of the overhead lamps, and suddenly Gerard’s thumbs weren’t half as hot as his face as the blood rushed to his cheeks.

“You wouldn’t fire me,” he mumbled, casting his eyes back down to his mug, teeth clinking against the rim. Grant pressed his lips together, unsure of what it was he was suppressing – a laugh, perhaps – before prying the mug from Gerard’s hands.

“I might do someday. Watch your mouth,” he grinned, wiggling his eyebrows as he casually sipped from Gerard’s mug, as if the action wasn’t enough to set Gerard’s heart (and oh God, so many other places) on fire. The older man grimaced, setting the cup on the counter, “far too bitter,” he muttered. He didn’t spare Gerard another glance as he headed back towards the office, but Gerard felt exposed nonetheless.

By the time Frank returned from his lunch break, lips freshly scented with tobacco, the café was clean, and a few customers had begun to meander through the door and occupy the scattered tables. Gerard was, as almost always, on the till, while Grant took charge of both the drinks and causing a riot in Gerard’s chest every time he leaned over, nearly brushing Gerard as he placed a mug on the counter top beside him.

“I don’t know how Frank does it, this whole process is so _tedious_ ,” he groaned, eyes narrowing as he steamed the milk for a latte – apparently not noticing or not caring about the customers in earshot of his complaining. Gerard grinned, half-turning towards him.

“Maybe it’s because Frank’s still young and spritely, so he can bide his time,” he teased, biting his lip to suppress his giggle when Grant cast him a dark look from under his eyelashes

“Hey – I can still fire you, Gerard. I’m just looking for an excuse.” He couldn’t help the small smile that twitched around his lips, though, as he peered at him through the gap in the machine. Gerard turned a little more towards him, a broad grin splitting his face.

“Did I hit a nerve?”

“Not at all – I’m just thinking of how to file my report to HR about your… your elder abuse,” he sniffed, leaning forward to place a steaming mug on the counter. Gerard broke the banter, then, to call out the order – but when the cup had been claimed, he turned right back to Grant.

“HR? I didn’t realise we had an HR.”

“We don’t. Maybe I’ll hire one just to get you fired,” Grant replied coolly, shooting Gerard another smirk from under his eyelashes. Gerard could feel the heat pooling in each of his extremities, but took a deep breath to maintain his cool.

“That’s a lot of effort just for me, Grant. I’m almost flattered,” Gerard hummed, his accompanying lip-bite perhaps vaguely more flirty in nature than he was hoping for. Grant snorted, shaking his head. He glanced up at Gerard and – _oh -_ his eyes fell pointedly upon the lip caught daintily between Gerard’s teeth.

“What did I tell you about watching your mouth, hm?” he murmured, arching a challenging eyebrow, the smirk not fading from his lips for even a moment. Gerard’s heart slammed in his chest as he, once again, felt the uncanny sensation of being _flirted with_. Quite shamelessly, too, if he did say so himself.

He let his lip drop from his teeth, doing all he could to not gawk at his manager. Another customer, thankfully, chose that moment to approach the counter and order a drink. With shaking hands, Gerard tapped the order in – feeling relief rush through his system as he heard Frank’s voice from behind him as he re-took his station from Grant.  
Just as Gerard slipped the customer’s change into her hand, Grant reached past him once more, setting two small cups of espresso on the bar.

“Frank’s back now, so I suppose I just have to trust that you’ll be on your best behavior without me here to watch you,” he chuckled. Perhaps Gerard imagined the faintly husky tone to his voice, but he _certainly_ didn’t fabricate the self-satisfied smirk. Gerard risked a single, cursory glance at him, trying to drown out the rush in his ears so he could _think._

“Does that sound like me?” he asked weakly, closing the till as the customer departed. Grant chuckled as he drew back.

“Behaving? You? No. Not even for a moment, Gerard,” he sighed – the smile never leaving his lips, even as he made his way into the customer area to begin cleaning.  
Perhaps Grant continued to glance up at Gerard, but he didn’t allow himself to look, focusing his gaze on the screen before him, even when there were no customers to serve. He tried to memorise each shaky pixel, each curved letter, the order of the buttons as they appeared on the screen – anything except the bemused, sultry glance of his manager.

“Looking forward to your date, Gee?” Frank asked coolly from behind him. Grateful for the distraction, Gerard half-turned, beaming back at his friend.

“Yeah, I really am. I think it’ll be nice to…hang out with someone new, I guess,” he murmured. Frank arched an eyebrow, a small smile spreading over his face.

“Someone other than me?” he asked, lips quirking up in amusement. Gerard rolled his eyes, leaning his back on the counter as he turned to face Frank

“You _know_ that’s not what I meant. Just… everyone I know works _here_. It’ll be nice to be around someone who doesn’t reek of coffee all the time,” he smiled.

“We don’t reek of it _all_ the time,” Grant interjected, placing a stack of dirty plates up on the counter. Frank’s grin turned almost wolfish as he watched Gerard’s face pale upon the realisation that his boss was directly behind him.

“Frank does,” Gerard mumbled, only turning his head to regard Grant. As it happened, even that minimal gesture was unneeded – the man swept through to behind the counter, collecting the plates in his arms.

“We’re just talking about Gerard’s hot date, Grant,” Frank chimed helpfully, shooting Gerard a playful wink. The manager paused, raising his eyebrows at Gerard inquisitively.

“Oh? You didn’t mention a date to me, Gerard,” he beamed, moving through to the small kitchen area, placing the plates into the sink, before re-emerging, wiping his hands on his apron. Gerard took the opportunity to shoot a dark glare at Frank, who simply poked his tongue out jovially in response. Gerard shrugged, fiddling with the tie on his apron nervously.

“It’s not a big deal. Just… I met some guy at the dog park yesterday, and he wanted to take me out somewhere. It’s nothing… serious,” he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. Grant shrugged, clapping Gerard on the arm as he passed him again.

“Well, good for you. It’s about time one of the two of you got back out there. You’ve been bringing my vibe down ever since you broke up,” he teased. Frank giggled, seeming unperturbed as he began to make himself a mug of coffee.

“Right? That’s what I’ve been saying. Too much untapped gay energy,” he agreed as solemnly as he could with a shit-eating grin spread across his face. Frank paused, glancing at Grant, “of course there’s _your_ untapped gay energy to deal with too, huh?” he hummed. Grant laughed loudly enough for a woman at a nearby table to shoot him a disapproving glare – but he either didn’t notice, or didn’t care.

“Oh, very subtle, Frank,” he grinned, “why are you boys so desperate for me to tell you my deal, huh? Looking for an entrance into my pants?” he said mockingly.

“No,” Gerard replied – too quickly by a mile to be considered casual. Grant pressed his lips into a firm line, arching an eyebrow as he glanced to Frank, in an expression that screamed, “are you fucking seeing this?” Frank looked over to Gerard, looking vaguely surprised, but mostly amused, a giggle rattling in his chest that he tried, unsuccessfully, to hold back.

“Oh, fuck you both,” Gerard muttered under his breath, furrowing his brows as he turned back to the screen, continuing to analyse nothing at all.

“That mouth’s gonna get you in trouble, Gerard,” Grant mused as he passed him, bumping the half-door with his hip to close it as he returned to the main section of the café.

“Is that why I should watch it?” Gerard guessed, glancing up for only half a second, before fixing his gaze back on the screen. Grant shrugged.

“That’s entirely up to you. It was a friendly suggestion, not an order,” he smiled – although, the expression looked more akin to if he were baring his teeth.

“Right. Well, when it becomes an order, let me know,” Gerard muttered – mood ever so slightly dampened by the embarrassment he felt coursing through him, and the weight of his prayer that Grant would just leave him alone to suffer in peace. As it happened, he got his wish a moment later, as Grant pushed off from the counter to begin his cycle of cleaning the tables as customers left. Before he left, though, he fixed Gerard with a soft, self-assured smile. 

“When it becomes an order, Gerard, you’ll know about it. Trust me.” His voice sounded uncharacteristically husky, the words coming out almost in a sultry purr, as he finally began walking towards the table that had just been vacated. Gerard held tightly onto the counter, for fear his knees would buckle.

“So how’s that not being obsessed with him thing going?” Frank asked, the laughter audible in his tone.

“Frank I’ll _kill_ you.”

Gerard didn’t become nervous for his date until after he’d already arrived home. He had, multiple times, offered to stay with Grant and Frank, vowing that he could put what limited math skills he had to use in helping the pair work through their task. Grant, though, had insisted that Gerard was far more suited to charming customers, and since there were no customers to charm, he was out of his depth.

Frank agreed, telling Gerard in considerably less subtle terms that he was an _idiot_ when it came to numbers, and that he should head home to prepare for his date. Gerard tried (failed) not to notice the smug emphasis put on the word, nor Grant’s bemused grin, which the older man unsuccessfully attempted to disguise by glancing down at his phone.

Offer to assist rejected, therefore, Gerard found himself staring at himself in his full-length bedroom mirror, his teeth clamped harshly over his lip. Grant’s earlier warning of _watch your mouth_ drifted into his subconscious uninvited, and Gerard groaned, shoving the heels of his hands into his eyes. It was almost unfair to Adam to go on this date when he had been so thoroughly dazzled by Grant – but it would be even more unfair to cancel at this rate. Besides, Adam had done his own fair share of dazzling: Gerard had felt, admittedly, a little lightheaded after their encounter the day before.

Gerard dropped his hands from where they had been curled in his hair, attempting to get the strands to sit in any position that wasn’t just laying limp on his scalp – and, ultimately, failing. He wasn’t entirely sure what Adam had in mind for their date, so he dressed partially nicely with a collared shirt and a deep green sweatshirt pulled over the top, but wore slightly baggy jeans to keep it casual; even if Adam had been the type to spring for a fancy location for a first date, their town held very few establishments that would fit that description.

Somewhat embarrassed by his own living conditions, Gerard had requested that Adam just call him when he was outside – which is why, when his phone buzzed harshly half an hour too early, Gerard felt his stomach turn, the blood flushing from his face. For the second time in twenty four hours, Gerard prayed that it was just his brother contacting him – but this time, he got no such reprieve. After only momentarily considering letting it ring through, Gerard answered the phone, clearing his throat to try and dispel some of the nervous shakiness from his tone.

“Hello?”

“Gerard! I’m outside,” Adam replied brightly. In the background, Gerard could just about hear the dull hum of some song on the radio, but couldn’t quite place it.

“Oh? You’re early,” he noted, immediately squeezing his eyes shut in disdain when he realised that it sounded as if he was _complaining._ For the sake of clarity, he _was_ complaining, but he had no intention of doing it to Adam’s face. The man on the other end of the phone gave a short, amused laugh, seemingly unperturbed.

“Sorry – I can drive around the block if you’d like.” Something in his tone indicated to Gerard that the offer wasn’t a genuine one, and that Gerard was, indeed, being mocked. Cheeks brightening, Gerard began his walk towards the door, snatching his keys, ID, and jacket up in a single swoop as he began to pull his shoes on. 

“No, not at all. I’m glad you’re here – I’ll be right down,” he mumbled, pressing his lips together as he wiggled his toes into his shoes. He waited for a reply, but it was only by the time he’d tugged the second shoe on that he realised he’d been hung up on.

If Gerard had been concerned about being overdressed, he shouldn’t have. As it happened, Adam’s ideal date location wasn’t technically _in_ their town, but was a rock and roll bar a twenty minutes’ drive away

“Thought you wanted me to show you around town,” Gerard giggled nervously when Adam told him their location, hands clasped in his lap as he resisted the urge to melt into the comfortable leather seats of Adam’s car. Gerard’s date glanced over, brilliant teeth glistening as he shot Gerard an amused grin.

“You’re so cute, Gerard,” he chuckled, taking one hand off the wheel to gently hold Gerard’s thigh as he drove. It was, perhaps, a little forward, but Gerard couldn’t bring himself to mind it – Adam looked even more attractive tonight than he had the day before, and sat beside him in his car, Gerard could smell the heady scent of his cologne, and feel the gentle heat his hand radiated onto his thigh. Adam was much taller than Gerard, and was such a domineering presence that, admittedly, Gerard had to stop himself from opening his legs a little when Adam touched him, deciding to keep his knees firmly pressed together instead.

“Cute?” Gerard asked uncertainly, tucking his hair behind his ear. Adam glanced over, smirking as he squeezed his thigh.

“Very. I thought you’d have known a line when you heard one. I imagine a cute guy like you gets flirted with all the time.”

It took Gerard an embarrassingly long moment to realise what Adam was saying – he was not, in fact, new or unfamiliar to the area, and didn’t need Gerard to show him around.

“Um. No – I don’t get flirted with very often,” he mumbled, eyes straying to Adam’s large, warm hand on his own thigh. Once again, his mind flitted to Grant, remembering the cool, yet somehow predatory way his boss had stared at his mouth, and he bit his lip without really realising he was doing it. Adam gave a husky laugh, letting his hand slide ever-so-slightly up Gerard’s leg. Something in Gerard’s mind recoiled from Adam’s forwardness, but it was overwhelmed by the pure, raw attraction Gerard felt to the man, and his pure desire to be touched by him. He was never usually one to act so needy on a first date, but Adam had a magnetism that was calling to Gerard in the exact way it needed to in order to turn him on. He was surprised, in fact, at his own stirring arousal, just at being near the other man. Fuck, maybe it really _had_ been too long.

“That’s good to hear. It means you don’t already know all my tricks,” Adam beamed, shooting Gerard a wink, before finally removing his hand from the other man’s thigh, instead beginning to tap it on the steering wheel along to the beat of the song playing faintly from the radio. As soon as he was no longer being touched, Gerard felt a wave of calm run through him, like a summer rain cooling the wildfire that had begun to brew in his stomach. He took a deep, steadying breath, willing himself to just _calm down_. Adam appeared oblivious to Gerard’s difficulty, contentedly humming along to his music as he drove to the bar he was, apparently, all too familiar with.

In Adam’s defense, he had good taste. The bar looked like it was ripped right out of a movie set in the 80s, with a low ceiling a bar tucked away in one corner manned by a hefty, grumpy looking older man, and a large pool table taking up most of the center of the room. The lights were dim throughout, except for above the bar, where red LED bulbs cast an ominous shadow onto the wide array of bottles and glasses. There were some chairs placed along the bar itself, some scattered throughout the room, and a few tucked haphazardly against low-rising tables which were, also, placed seemingly nonsensically around the circumference of the room. It was at one of these tables that Adam and Gerard sat, faces closer than Gerard would have usually allowed on a first date – mostly due to the throbbing pulse of music that stopped any other possible means of conversation, save for shouting.  
That was only most of the reason, though. A significant part of the reason why Gerard was sat, knees pressed against Adam’s under the too-short table, their noses practically touching, was because of how horribly, hopelessly and pathetically _attracted_ to the other man he was. If Adam had looked radiant in the autumn sun in the park, and alluring in the intimacy of his car, then he looked _breathtaking_ now, the dim lights curling shadows under his eyes and around his full lips, giving him an enigmatic look that drew Gerard in far more than he was willing to admit. When they’d gotten out of the car, Gerard had noticed, for the first time, the sleeveless Iron Maiden shirt he was wearing beneath the bulky denim jacket. The jacket was, now, flung over the back of his chair, and Gerard was free to ogle the large, muscular arms all he wished.  
Knowing he didn’t quite fit the aesthetic of the bar, Gerard kept his leather jacket on in hopes of blending in – the result being that he was sweating, both due to the actual heat of the underground bar, and the racing of his heart. Gerard took a long sip of his beer, closing his eyes as he felt the cool liquid spill into his mouth, the ice cubes pressing against his lips, breathing relief into his heated skin.

“So,” Adam said, grinning at Gerard, “how was work?”

Gerard swallowed his drink, raising his eyebrows at his companion.

“It was okay. Pretty calm, actually,” he smiled, leaning a little closer, “what did you do today?”

It wasn’t much for date-talk, but Gerard knew he had to say _something_ to avoid feeling deeply uncomfortable with his current situation. Admittedly, he would have preferred somewhere a little more neutral: being in a trashy bar with a guy _this_ attractive had implications that weren’t helping the beads of sweat forming across Gerard’s brow. Adam nodded slowly.

“I didn’t do a hell of a lot. I was excited to see you, actually,” he chuckled, “I hope that doesn’t make me sound desperate,” he winked. Gerard laughed – mostly in relief – before clapping a hand over his mouth.

“No! I mean – I’m not laughing at you,” he stammered. Adam smirked, taking a long sip of his own drink as he watched Gerard with cool eyes.

“Right,” he smiled.

“I’m not, I swear. Just…I was nervous too. So I’m glad-

“I didn’t say I was nervous,” Adam corrected, holding up a finger, giving Gerard the sort of self-satisfied smile that only wasn’t annoying when it was on such pretty faces as Adam’s.

“Right. Guess that was just me,” Gerard giggled, staring down at the ice cubes dancing in his drink.

“Guess it was,” Adam mumbled, swallowing the last of his drink, before gesturing to the barman that he’d like another. The pair sat in absolute silence while one of the waitresses appeared, taking Adam’s glass and placing two more down on the table. Gerard furrowed his brows, avoiding Adam’s gaze as he stared down at his hands, nails picking absently at a loose piece of skin on his thumb.

“Hey, can we get some shots, too?” Adam asked the waitress just as she turned to leave. Gerard’s head snapped up in alarm, but Adam wasn’t even looking at him as he rattled off the names of a few brands of liquor Gerard didn’t even recognize. The young woman walked back to the bar, and Gerard was left alone, once again, with Adam’s smug smile.

“You okay with shots?” he asked – perhaps uselessly, considering he’d already ordered them. Gerard gave a half-hearted smile.

“I guess we’ll find out,” he chuckled. His nail tugged too hard on the skin, making blood fill the bottom of his nail. He tucked it under the table to wipe it covertly against his jeans – and as an excuse to look away.

“I don’t want you to think I’m not interested in you, Gerard, because I am. You’re a really pretty guy. I don’t think I’ve dated anyone as pretty as you for a while,” Adam said smoothly, leaning forward again. Gerard looked up expectantly, face intentionally unreadable. If he had projected his emotions onto his features, Adam would have assumed, correctly, that Gerard wasn’t having any fun.

“Okay,” Gerard replied uselessly, realizing that Adam had expected a reply. The other man gave a tight smile, fingers curling into a necklace that hung loosely around his neck.

“I mean it. I just… this isn’t really going well. But I’m _so_ attracted to you. It was everything I could do to not start touching you in the car earlier, you know. And I’ve been thinking about kissing you all night – I think that’s obvious, though,” he smiled, almost sheepishly. Despite his overall aversion, Gerard’s heart fluttered at the concept of _this_ man wanting him, of being as desperate as he was to get his hands on him.

“It was sort of obvious, Gerard conceded, a small, impish smile spreading across his lips, “I…wanted it too. In the car. When you were touching my leg…” He bit his lip, glancing up into Adam’s eyes as a blush bloomed beneath his skin, visible even in such dim light. Adam smiled, reaching over to hold Gerard’s hand in his own. Gerard’s fingers were long and slender, but his hand felt oddly delicate in Adam’s large, rough hands.

“That’s a good start, us wanting each other like that. But I didn’t ask you here just to fuck – if that were the case, I’d just have taken you home,” he smiled, “I don’t think we should let a bit of awkwardness get in the way of what’s obviously quite a strong attraction.”

“I agree,” Gerard said meekly, still reeling from Adam’s bluntness. Adam nodded pensively, rubbing his thumb slowly over Gerard’s wrist.

“So hence the shots. I guess if we loosen up then-

“Then you’re in for more of a chance of uh… _loosening me up_?” Gerard quizzed, arching an eyebrow. Adam’s responding laugh could be heard even from over the pounding music, his eyes glistening in the dim light.

“Fuck, Gerard. You’re making me wish I _had_ just taken you home,” he smiled, leaning forward so the pair were almost touching again. Gerard shrugged.

“You could’ve just asked. Y’know, if you don’t think we’re…compatible as people, but you thought I was hot. You didn’t have to take me out,” he mumbled, focusing his eyes on the smooth, perfect curve of Adam’s nose. The other man shrugged, still swiping his thumb across Gerard’s wrist.

“That’s not really my thing. Besides – I don’t know that we’re not compatible. I do know that we’re…sort of different. But we have stuff in common, and you seem nice, so I wanna give this a shot. With uh… shots,” he grinned. Gerard snorted, leaning back as he saw the waitress approach their table. The girl leaned down, placing an array of short, plastic shot glasses between them, each containing a different-looking liquid, ranging from clear and strong-smelling, to sweet-scented ones with bright green and red hues. Between the pair, there were a total of twelve shotglasses.

“You expect me to do _six_ shots in a row? Six _mixed_ shots?” Gerard asked, eyes wide. Adam shrugged, gesturing broadly.

“I don’t expect anything, Gerard. Don’t do so much that you throw up, but maybe just… keep doing shots until you think I’m interesting,” he grinned, “drink until you consider a second date.”

Gerard truly couldn’t argue with that. He lifted one of the brightly coloured liquids, gave a half-hearted ‘cheers’ to his date, before swallowing the liquid in one smooth motion. When he looked back, Adam was staring at him with hooded eyes, his teeth worrying the inside of his cheek.

“What?” Gerard asked, cheeks flushing as the alcohol ran through him. Adam shrugged, picking up a second shotglass.

“You looked good like that,” he confessed, tossing the second shot back without a second thought. Gerard giggled, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s just my luck that the first guy I’ve dated in a while, and who is… easily one of the hottest people I’ve ever seen, is completely uninterested in me in any significant way, and I’m not… hugely interested back,” he confessed, glancing up at him, “isn’t that fucked?”

Adam laughed, picking up one of the clear-liquid filled glasses and sliding it across to Gerard. 

“Keep drinking and we’ll see, hm?”

As it happened, it took all of the shots, plus two more each, plus a continuous re-filling of drinks to get Gerard drunk enough to have a good time. It wasn’t that Adam was _boring_ – in fact, he was absolutely charming. They shared their taste in music and horror films, seemed perfectly politically aligned, and Adam even teared up as Gerard told him stories about Stevie. In theory, the pair were perfect for each other – but the reality was more complicated. Adam was cocky and condescending, and started debates with Gerard even when the two men _agreed_ with each other. He was pig-headed and stubborn, the kind of man to evoke ‘devil’s advocate’ uninvited, and often unnecessarily.

But Christ, was he ever attractive.

“Are you having fun?” Adam slurred, leaning across the table. Gerard giggled into his empty glass, setting it aside as he pressed his forehead against Adam’s.

“I’m drunk and with a _hot_ guy. I’m having fun,” he replied

“I think you’re hot too, Gerard. I dunno if we’ll have a second date-

“We won’t,” Gerard laughed, booping his finger against Adam’s nose. The other man grinned, seeming unbothered by the casual rejection.

“Yeah, we won’t. But I like this. You’re _fun_. I don’t know many guys that are… that are _fun_ anymore, y’know? It’s all so serious…”

“I’ve had serious. I had eight years of serious, I just… I wanna do some dumb fucking shit. I wanna be reckless, and stupid, and I-

He was cut off by the sudden, urgent press of Adam’s lips against his own. Saliva-slick and reeking of alcohol, Adam’s mouth was clumsy, too-insistent, but filled with enough desperation to make Gerard moan into the kiss regardless.

“Please stop fucking talking, Gerard, you’re so hot until you start talking,” he whispered against his mouth, curling his hands in Gerard’s hair. Gerard nodded, not even vaguely affronted.

“I’ll shut up if you agree to. I won’t say another word if you p-promise to just… stop talking,” he hissed, leaning forward and, boldly, biting Adam’s bottom lip, “you’re so _boring_ ,”

“Fuck you,” Adam growled, pulling him in for another aggressive kiss.

“You should have. Shouldn’t have bothered trying to get to know me – you should have just taken me home and fucked me. I could be home by now, and I’m wasting my time with _you_ ,”

“I know, I’m a fucking idiot,” Adam giggled, pressing another, softer kiss to his lips. Gerard smiled, feeling the tension bleed out of him. Gerard opened his eyes, looking up at Adam with a soft expression. He reached out, letting his fingers roam clumsily along his soft beard.

“I think you’re really attractive,” he mumbled. Adam nodded, stroking his thumb over Gerard’s ear.

“Yeah, it’s mutual. I’m sorry this didn’t work out,” he replied, nipping his lip, before running his tongue over the area, “I really wish it had. I can’t explain it, I just… we just-“

“We just don’t click. It’s okay. I still think you’re the hottest guy I’ve dated,” Gerard murmured, leaning in for another kiss. This one was soft and lingering, a soft sigh passing from Adam’s mouth into Gerard’s.

“I wanna fuck you real bad. You have no idea – I’m… I’m practically bursting out of my jeans,” Adam said candidly, grinning against Gerard’s mouth. Gerard whimpered, subconsciously shuffling closer.

“I am too. I’m real riled up…I want it,” he mumbled. Adam sighed, pulling back, but keeping Gerard’s face cupped in his hands.

“I’m glad to hear it. You have such a pretty face, I wanna do so many fucked up things to you,” he grinned. Gerard tilted his head, letting his bottom lip protrude in a gentle pout.

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re not going to?” he asked. Adam groaned, leaning in and kissing him firmly.

“Cause I’m not. It just… it wouldn’t be fair. To either of us. We know this… won’t be a thing. We shouldn’t fuck just because we both want it.”

“Is that not the perfect reason to?” Gerard challenged, surprising himself with his own forwardness. Adam laughed, rubbing his thumb along Gerard’s lips, and moaning faintly when the other man licked it slowly.

“It should be, right? I should just… take you home and fuck you into my mattress. Or take you into the bathrooms here and suck you fuckin’ dry,” he grinned, “but I just… don’t feel good about it. I’m sorry,” he sighed, rubbing his nose against Gerard’s. The other man sighed, but nodded.

“I understand, Adam. I do,” he said firmly, placing his hand over his date’s, “and I’m glad you were honest with me. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this. Sometimes it just isn’t right, I get it,” he assured him, smiling despite his disappointment, and the embarrassment that was beginning to curl in his stomach. Adam pulled back, rubbing his neck. 

“So uh, here’s the awkward part. Do you think… can you get yourself home? I usually get Sally-“ he gestured to the waitress from before – “to give me a lift home, since I can’t drive drunk. I can call you a taxi-.” To his credit, Adam looked genuinely mortified to be asking this of Gerard, a sheepish smile on his lips.   
“Oh. Um. I mean-“

“Don’t,” Adam groaned, “trust me, I’ve been thinking like – I could just get you dropped off to my place, and you could crash on the couch, or I could call you a cab from there or something. But if I get you into my house, I’m fucking you. And I…I don’t think that’s a good idea for me,” he mumbled. Gerard smiled, squeezing Adam’s hand.

“I’ll call a friend to come get me from here. My ex is probably still awake, he’ll come,” he assured him warmly. Relief flooded Adam’s expression as he sat back in his chair.

“I’m glad. That’s a hell of an ex you’ve got there, Gerard. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

Gerard couldn’t remember if he’d told Adam about Frank or not – but he could only imagine that he’d been brought up at some point. There was a moment of heavy, pregnant silence, before Gerard realised that Adam was waiting for him to leave. He promptly stood up, shoving his hands in his pocket and _praying_ that Adam wouldn’t immediately look at his crotch.  
Which of course, he did. The other man groaned, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I’m gonna hate myself for letting you go tomorrow,” he sighed. Gerard didn’t reply, just moved around the other side of the table.

“Do I get a kiss before I go, or are you a clean break kinda guy?” he smiled. Adam laughed, shaking his head.

“Are you kidding me? I’m cock blocking myself as it is – kiss me or I’ll _hate_ myself,” he hummed, leaning up and curling his fingers in Gerard’s jacket. Only too willingly, Gerard leaned down, kissing him firmly, moaning as he felt the other man’s tongue slide into his mouth. In a movement Gerard was far too disorientated to place, he was tugged down onto the other man’s lap, Adam’s hand once again finding his thigh, squeezing desperately at him while he kissed him. Gerard pushed his hips down, feeling Adam’s excitement through his jeans, and let out a broken moan.

“A-Adam, Adam-“ he whimpered. The other man groaned, curling his hand around the back of Gerard’s neck and kissing him hard, his hand finally trailing all the way up to his crotch.

“Sorry, sorry- I can’t help-“ Adam panted against his lips.

“Adam. F-fuck me, take me home and _fuck me,_ or let me go. I can’t- I can’t- I don’t want you to regret anything,“ Gerard gasped. There was a time-splitting moment where Adam hesitated, hand pressed against Gerard’s crotch, both men’s hearts beating fast against their ribs.

“Call me some other time,” Adam breathed finally, “because… tonight isn’t the time. But I don’t wanna miss out on you. Give me another chance,” he whispered, “maybe I’ll do it right. Maybe-“

“Maybe you’ll just take me home and fuck me instead of trying to date me?” Gerard smiled. Adam laughed deeply, pressing a firm, final kiss to his mouth as he finally let go of him.

“Exactly. I don’t know what I was thinking,” he giggled. Gerard reluctantly pulled himself up off the other man’s lap, holding a hand out for him to shake, and trying to pretend he didn’t realise that everyone around them was shooting them disgruntled side-eye glares as a result of them practically dry-humping in the middle of the bar.

“It was nice to meet, dislike, and not fuck you, Adam,” Gerard said boldly. Adam laughed, taking his hand and shaking it.

“Right back at you. I mean it, though. Call me some other time, okay? Maybe we can make this work,” he shrugged. Gerard pressed his lips together, knowing very well that he had no intention of doing so.

“Yeah, I will. Honest,” he smiled. He gave the bar one final, cursory look, before heading back outside, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

Outside, the cool wind blowing on his face and nipping at his fingers, Gerard felt far more aware of himself – and, by association, far more foolish.

“Stupid, stupid slut,” he chastised himself under his breath. He replayed the scene through his mind and swore, closing his eyes as a sharp wave of embarrassment coursed through him. He wasn’t the type to make out with a guy he didn’t know, much less one he’s already realised he didn’t like, and _much_ less in a public place. He closed his eyes, head leaning against cool brick as he let the crisp October night sweep his regret in its unrelenting wind, trying to focus on his feet planted firmly on the ground to attempt to subset some of the spinning in his head.

After a moment, Gerard dug his phone out from his pocket, equal parts surprised and relieved to find it still partially charged. Without even thinking about it, he scrolled through and moved to press on Frank’s number – then stopped. It was only 10pm, but he was _drunk_ , and still vaguely horny despite the way his gut twisted when he thought of how he’d behaved, and the last person he wanted to see was Frank. Frank, who still loved him, who would come pick him up in a heartbeat despite Gerard breaking his heart, Frank who definitely _did not_ want to hear about Gerard almost fucking another man, no matter how much he pretended he didn’t mind. Gerard sifted through his options – he could call Bert, but it had been his day off, and while they were out-of-work friends, it didn’t feel right bothering him when they hadn’t even spoken that day. His baby brother, Mikey, would certainly come get him if it came down to him, but that would also come with a lecture and deep concern about his elder brother’s drinking habits.

The obvious option stared up at him from his screen, nestled just beneath Frank’s number.

“He’s gonna kill me,” Gerard whispered. Still, he felt a thrill run through him as he pressed down on the number, holding his phone to his ear with a shaking hand.

Surprisingly, Grant answered almost instantly.

“Gerard?” he asked, tone soft and concerned-sounding. He wasn’t sure why, but Gerard felt his eyes fill with tears. He blinked them away hard, swallowing so as to dispel the lump in his throat.

“Grant – I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

“I- huh? No, not at all, I’m still at the shop,” he replied, his tone still _very_ serious. Gerard let out a shaking breath, eyes widening.

“Is Frank-“

“No, no. He left a while ago, I’m just finishing up some paperwork and waiting-“ he sighed, “-it doesn’t matter. Gerard, are you alright?” Grant sounded so genuinely concerned for Gerard that the man couldn’t help the soft tears that slid down his face. He batted at them, but he could still hear them in his next words.

“G-Grant, I’ve made a fucking idiot of myself, and I- I don’t know where I am, and I think I should’ve called a cab, but-“ he cut himself off before he could finish telling Grant that he _just wanted to see him._ Gerard heard Grant take a steadying breath, and then some more rustling he couldn’t identify.

“Am I right in assuming you’re drunk, Gerard?” he asked calmly. It was the same voice he used when Bert had put whole beans into the machine meant for ground coffee, and almost caused a fire, or the time Frank had dropped an entire stack of plates. It was a tone that said ‘it doesn’t matter, you’re okay, I’ve got you’, and it made Gerard’s heart clench.

“I-I’m… yeah, I’m fucked up,” he laughed shakily, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. Grant laughed softly – the sound accompanied by more rustling.

“It’s okay. Where’s your date, Gerard? Did he leave you?”

“No! No, he… he’s still inside. Um… he kind of kicked me out,”

“Of his house?” Grant asked, voice suddenly sharp. Gerard bit back a whimper, shaking his head before he remembered that Grant couldn’t see him.

“No, we’re still at the bar. Um. It got… weird. I just wanna go home, and I don’t wanna be alone, and… and I feel so _stupid_. I feel so-“

“Shhh, shh. It’s okay, it’s okay,” Grant murmured. Gerard felt his muscles relax, as if Grant were physically there holding him, “Gerard, do you want me to tell Frank to come get you, or do you want me to come?” he asked.

“No! No, don’t tell Frank, fuck – don’t-“

“Okay. Okay, Gerard, it’s all okay. I won’t say a word, and I’ll come get you. Relax, I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you,” Grant said firmly. Amazingly, Gerard felt truly comforted, as if Grant’s voice alone was enough to clear the upset from his mind.

“Thank you, Grant. Thank you – I owe you-“

“You don’t owe me shit, Gerard, and don’t say that to me again. Send me your location, and get somewhere warm. I’ll be with you as soon as I can,” he said firmly. Gerard heard the click of Grant’s car being unlocked, and his heart swelled.

“I will. Thank you, Grant. Thank you,” he breathed, lips trembling with a mixture of crying and the cold. The line was silent for a moment, and Gerard considered that he’d been hung up on, until –

“Gerard- you’re okay, right? Nothing… nothing bad happened?” Grant asked slowly. Gerard let out a soft breath.

“No, Grant. I promise – I’m okay. He didn’t… nothing bad happened to me. I’m just fucking stupid, that’s all. He didn’t do anything wrong,” he assured him. Grant let out a relieved breath.

“I’m glad to hear that. I’m in the car now – you just hold on tight, I’ll be there soon. Just hold on,” he said gently. Gerard nodded, pressing his head against the brick once again.

“Thank you,” he whispered faintly. Grant hesitated, before hanging up. Before doing anything else, Gerard sent Grant his location, and shoved his phone back into his pocket, eyes closed as he tried to force the time to move faster.

Gerard thought it was odd that he hadn’t seen Adam leave, but he figured that was because the man hadn’t left yet. It was only around half past ten, and the bar wouldn’t close for almost four hours – he was probably making the most of his night, while Gerard stood freezing outside. He was considering whether it truly was possible for your lips to freeze off, when a sharp car horn made his eyes fly open. If he didn’t recognize Grant’s car (he did), then he certainly recognized the man himself as he immediately stepped out, half-jogging towards his employee. At the familiar sight of his boss – embarrassingly enough – Gerard felt tears slide down his face again. Within no time at all, Grant pulled Gerard into his arms, holding the man against him tightly. Grant was warm, his arms firm as he held the shivering Gerard against him, his cold nose almost painful against Grant’s skin.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Grant whispered, rubbing Gerard’s back. Usually, Gerard would have hesitated, but this time he didn’t even think as he wound his arms around his boss, pressing his face into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called,” he whispered. Grant shook his head, hand stroking Gerard’s hair. Gerard had hugged Grant before, but never like this – this had _meaning_ , and _purpose._ It was a promise and a reassurance wrapped up in the firm arms of a man Gerard was crazy about.

“You can always call if you need me, Gerard, I’m always here for you,” he whispered, holding the other man close, “we’re _friends_.”

Gerard sniffed, nodding as he pulled back, giving his boss a watery smile.

“I feel like a mess,” he whispered. Grant smiled, swiping Gerard’s cheek with his thumb.

“You don’t look it. You look-“ he paused, eyes soft as he regarded him. Thinking better of whatever he would have said next, Grant gestured to the car.

“Come on. I’ll take you back to the shop, get some coffee in you before I take you home,” he murmured. Gerard knew better than to argue, so just shot Grant a grateful smile, hands shoved into his pockets as he followed him to his car.

The ride back to the café was quiet, but comfortably so. Grant had the radio playing a _Blondie_ album, and hummed softly to himself as he drove. He didn’t attempt to speak to Gerard, nor did Gerard try to speak either – but it was a mutually consensual silence. Gerard was happy to sit, eyes closed, relaxed into the seat as he basked in Grant’s presence. He didn’t see the fond, concerned glances Grant shot his way, too focused on relaxing and taking deep, steadying breaths to dispel the nausea that had begun to twist his stomach.  
He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but soon enough, Grant’s cursory glance was met with the sight of Gerard sleeping soundly, face pressed against the window.  
The older man couldn’t help but grin the rest of the way, keeping his music a quiet hum so as not to wake the beautiful boy in the seat beside him.


	5. Chapter 5

Gerard assumed that the nap in the car would relieve most of the head-spinning nausea the shots in his stomach had produced – but he couldn’t have been more incorrect. As Grant helped him out of the car and into the café, Gerard’s stomach lurched, making the younger man grasp his boss’s arm hard, his nails all but biting into his skin through his jacket. Grant gave a short laugh, gently winding his arm around Gerard’s waist. The gesture was still enough to make Gerard shiver, even as his vision blurred with his alcohol-fueled dizziness.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Just… let’s get inside, and then you can puke to your heart’s content,” Grant murmured, seeming genuinely unperturbed by Gerard’s state.

“You’re bein’ so nice to me,” Gerard slurred, leaning heavily on Grant’s shoulder. The other man chuckled, holding Gerard firmly as he unlocked the café door with one hand, smacking his hip hard against it to force the stiff door to open.

“I told you, Gerard, we’re friends. Besides – you’ve done the same for me _several_ times,” he mumbled, closing the door behind them as he guided Gerard to one of the soft seats. Relieved to be off his feet, but missing the feeling of Grant’s body against him, Gerard glanced up to his boss with soft eyes.

“Lockin’ you in your office when you drink too much at events is _not the same_ as you comin’ to pick me up because I got wasted and embarrassed myself on a date,” Gerard muttered. Grant laughed dismissively, moving towards the coffee machine. As soon as Gerard heard the familiar hiss of coffee being made, he felt the tension slide from his muscles, his head falling back against the seat. He was hyper-aware of the pulsing of his own body, feeling his blood sweep through each individual vein, the exaggerated thump of his heart seeming to shake his core. His vision was clearing now that he was sat, but he couldn’t shake the heaviness behind his eyeballs, nor the bitter taste at the back of his throat.

Gerard hadn’t realised he’d zoned out until Grant approached him a moment later, coffee mug cupped delicately in his palms. He set it in front of Gerard, taking a seat across from him. The scrape of the chair against the floor set Gerard’s teeth on edge, but the discomfort was soon soothed by the scent of fresh coffee as it swirled around his head, tinting the air he breathed with caffeine-flavoured smoke. Grant watched him expectantly as Gerard took a deep sip, seeming to not even notice the scalding temperature against his tongue.

“So,” Grant said, pressing his lips together. One of Gerard’s hands was pressed flat against the table, fingers splayed out as if he were grounding himself against it. He glanced up, unwillingly setting the coffee mug back down, his lips reddened by the heat.

“So?”

“So… did you want to talk about it?” Grant asked slowly, eyes careful as he watched his employee. Gerard let his tongue swipe along his bottom lip as he thought, eyebrows furrowing.

“I think so. Nothing- it’s like I said, nothing bad happened, exactly,” he mumbled.

“You were crying,” Grant noted. His voice was soft, his lips faintly downturned as he stared at Gerard with an indecipherable expression.

“I always cry when I’m drunk,” Gerard sighed, “but… I guess I owe you,”

“I told you, Gee. You don’t owe me anything at all,” Grant said firmly. Gerard hesitated, his lips twitching up with the vague ghost of a smile, his eyes glimmering even in the faint light.

“Gee? That’s Frank’s nickname for me,” he mumbled, glancing back down at his mug. He took a sip, sighing as the bitterness from his drink overtook that of the liquor. Glancing up from the rim, though, he nearly spat the beverage straight back out.

Grant was _blushing_. His demeanour was, of course, otherwise impassive – arm slung casually over the back of his chair, his features arranged perfectly into a mask of vague interest; but the deep flush that tinged his face was absolutely stark. Gerard swallowed one last sip, before setting the mug back down slowly, feeling his own cheeks redden in response.

“Sorry – would you rather I didn’t call you that?” Grant asked after a moment. Gerard swallowed hard, before smiling shyly.

“I don’t mind. It sounds nice in your accent,” Gerard confessed softly. Were he sober, Gerard would certainly have immediately punched himself in the face for being so candid – but the alcohol was still racing through his veins, and he was in the warm glow of a man he _wanted_ and the familiar comfort of his workplace – Gerard couldn’t have felt more at ease if he’d been at home. Gerard smiled, ducking his head as his blush deepened.

“I’m glad you think so,” Grant mumbled. He glanced up at Gerard, seeming to scrutinise him for a moment, his eyes slightly narrowed as he scanned Gerard’s face over and over, as if committing it to memory.

“So um. My date,” Gerard said – mainly to break the silence, and to get Grant to stop _looking at him like that_ before he did something he’d come to regret. Grant cleared his throat, gesturing for Gerard to proceed. Gerard nodded, holding his hands against the cup, letting the warmth emitting from it unfog the alcohol haze in his brain.

“So uh. Adam… he’s attractive. Easily the most attractive guy I’ve ever seen, I think. Except-“ Gerard had _just_ enough filter left to not add “except for you”, but by Grant’s slight smirk, he already knew what was implied. Gerard swallowed, glanced down, and took a breath before continuing.

“He’s really hot. So um, we were in his car, and he was getting handsy and…I don’t usually do all that, but I wanted him to, you know? I just… got this vibe from him, I guess,” he glanced up to make sure Grant was still listening (he was), before smiling sheepishly and continuing.

“So I was already pretty riled up before we even got to the bar. Anyway, we get there and… and there’s just no _spark_. I mean… I mean we both wanna fuck, you know? He’s giving me bedroom eyes, and I’m turned on by him, but I don’t _like_ him,” Gerard rambled, seemingly unaware of the way Grant sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, top lip pressed down firmly. Gerard shrugged, pausing to take a sip of coffee, before continuing his train of thought.

“He decides that we should get wasted, because we both wanna suck the other’s dick, but the conversation fucking sucks. So we do a bunch of shots, but it only makes us _hornier_ , and we end up making out in the bar, and… and then he asks me to leave because he’s too tempted to bang me, but he doesn’t want to, and so I called you and-“ Gerard shrugged, still staring down at his mug, “and I felt… embarrassed, and cheap. I felt like a complete idiot, and I think I just-“ he sighed, pressing his hands to his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tried to calm the race of his heart.

Grant was silent for a few moments, watching Gerard collect himself. He couldn’t have fathomed his thoughts into anything coherent at first, so was glad for the time Gerard took to breathe and wind-down. By the time Gerard had managed to place his hands back in his lap, looking at Grant with wide, almost apologetic eyes, the proprietor had just about managed to affix a warm look to his face.

“Gerard,” he said softly, leaning forward, “it’s okay. It’s okay to be turned on by people, even by people you don’t know well. It’s okay to get carried away, and to get drunk, and to feel disappointed when you don’t have a connection with someone you…want. It happens all the time, and you shouldn’t feel ashamed,” he murmured. Gerard looked up, eyes reddening again as embarrassed tears blurred his vision once more.

“I just made myself look like such an idiot. And I bothered you-“

“I told you, you didn’t. I was just finishing up here, I wasn’t doing anything important. But Gerard-“ Grant reached across the table before he could stop himself, curling his hand around Gerard’s. It was all the younger man could do to not gape down at the sight – as it was, his eyes widened as he stared at his boss’s hand curled around his own fingers.

“Gerard, even if I were doing the most important thing in the world, I would have dropped it for you if you needed me,” Grant finished firmly. Gerard allowed his gaze to flicker to Grant’s face, and almost winced at the look of pure, open sincerity he saw reflected there.

“Why?” he asked hoarsely. The alcohol was still strumming through his veins, making him feel like a live-wire: but beyond that, he could feel the throb of his pulse in his throat, the tremors of anxiety surging through his hand even as it rested in Grant’s, as if the other man’s skin was setting him alight from the inside. Grant smiled coolly, a smile turning up the corner of his lips.

“I told you. We’re friends, Gerard,” he said simply. Immediately, Gerard felt a crash of disappointment, and a resurgence of embarrassment: as _if_ he had truly believed that Grant was about to admit some deeply harboured feelings for him; it was too ridiculous to even think about.

“Are we?” he found himself asking, staring down at their hands. Using all the bravery he felt he had left, he turned his hand, letting his fingers thread through Grant’s. The other man stiffened, initially, before acquiescing and curling his fingers through Gerard’s, his thumb resting on his wrist. Gerard knew, in absolute certain terms, that the other man must have felt the heavy, accelerated race of his heart as it pumped through the delicate veins of his wrist, but couldn’t bring himself to regret the objectively intimate pose they found themselves in.

“Of course we’re friends, Gerard. Have I done something to make you think otherwise?” Grant asked, voice low and concerned. Gerard glanced up sheepishly, chewing the inside of his lip as he considered how he should approach his response.

“No. But I- I know you’re close with Frank. You guys hang out all the time – I know you… took his side when everything went to Hell a couple of years ago. Until a few months ago, I sort of thought you didn’t see me as much more than an employee,” Gerard admitted, his voice soft, as if he didn’t want to be speaking at all, but did by some unknown force of duty. Grant fell silent again, pursing his lips as he stared at a spot on the table – some streak left from the hasty cleaning job Frank had done before he left.

“I didn’t take anyone’s side. It wasn’t any of my business – it still isn’t,” he sighed, still not meeting Gerard’s eyes, “but Frank talked to me about it. We spend a lot of time alone, that’s true. I guess I did… form a closer bond with him during that time. But only because he didn’t have anyone else,” he finally glanced up, giving Gerard a knowing look, “Bert and you are close, and I know you have a brother. Frank and I became close during that time because he needed a shoulder to cry on that he knew you weren’t… _also_ crying on, I guess. But Gerard – I never meant to make you think I didn’t _like_ you, or that I don’t see you as one of my friends,” he insisted, squeezing Gerard’s hand gently, “I just … I didn’t want Frank to feel betrayed, at first, and then I suppose I never really found a good time to make amends, even after-“ he cut himself off, running a hand over his face. Gerard waited, for a moment, to see if he would finish, before nodding slowly.

“That makes sense. I didn’t realise Frank was still mad at me,” he said, voice hoarse. Grant shook his head, reaching across and taking Gerard’s mug, just like he had done that same morning.

“He isn’t, I promise,” Grant murmured, taking a long sip before setting it back down, “he’s… well. I suppose it’s not my place. But um-“ he glanced up at Gerard, “can I ask… what happened?”

“Didn’t Frank tell you?” Gerard asked, eyebrows raising in surprise. Grant smiled, almost apologetically.

“Yes. But… if you’ll excuse my being diplomatic, I want to hear your side of it,”

“Why?” Gerard retorted. He was shocked, himself, by his own sharpness – but Grant seemed as if he’d been expecting it. The older man let his thumb drag slowly over Gerard’s hand as he sighed, causing gentle pricks of electricity to rage across the other man’s skin.

“Humour me, please?” he sighed, glancing up at him. Gerard took a pause, eyes fixed to Grant’s thumb, which still continued its careful drag back and forth along his hand and wrist. His head was still vaguely spinning, but he felt more solid now than he had all night – perhaps there was something to be said for sobering conversation. It did strike him, momentarily, as odd that Grant was taking such an interest, but he wasn’t going to rebuke attention from his crush.

“Would you believe me if I told you I just… I couldn’t do it anymore?” he asked softly, eyebrows furrowing. He glanced up, a dark storm brewing across his eyebrows, “I loved him so fucking much – and he loved me. We had everything figured out, and we were so perfect together. I’ve never known anyone who can make me laugh like Frank, or who makes me feel so… special,” he glanced up, shrugging a little, “but it wasn’t that easy. I never had the easiest time growing up – there was always something _wrong_. I have a lot of shit that I need to process and work through, and I’m still a very, very flawed person. I think…I think I wasn’t ready for things to be beautiful for me. Not that I don’t deserve it, or that Frank doesn’t – we both do. But I am so _broken_ still. I need to…fix myself a little, before I’m ready to experience happiness like that, or else I’ll never truly be at peace, I’ll always be looking for something to make me feel complete,” he all but whispered, his voice cracking a little.

“I just needed it all to stop. I needed to find myself, and to fix all the broken shit inside. And I still haven’t, but at least now I don’t feel like I’m lying.”

Grant was silent for a few moments after Gerard finished speaking, respectfully averting his eyes when the other man wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“I understand,” Grant whispered. His voice sounded oddly thick, his tone revenant as he gazed at Gerard, hunched over and defeated, staring down into his coffee cup like a crystal ball.

“He said he did, too. But I know he feels like I gave up on him. Shit, I think I did. But if I didn’t leave while I was happy, I’d have left when we were miserable, and then I’d have lost him for good.”

“That makes sense. I- thank you, Gerard. For telling me this,” Grant murmured, squeezing his hand again. Gerard looked up into Grant’s eyes, holding the gaze this time instead of looking away like he so desperately wanted to. He wanted to tell him how happy he was to be with him right now, how good it felt to speak candidly like this. He wanted to tell Grant that his hand felt almost like home, and that his touch was calming the storm raging between his ears.  
Gerard wanted to tell Grant, in that moment, that he was in love with him. It was a new realisation – sudden one, too; but the understanding sat comfortably on the tip of his tongue, warming his heart even as it slammed erratically against his ribs.  
The words died on his tongue before they even got a chance to bloom, washed down with the final dregs of cold coffee.  
Grant smiled at Gerard, giving his hand a final squeeze before pulling his, finally, away from his friend’s. The older man smiled warmly, meeting Gerard’s gaze unwaveringly, that familiar twinkle dancing in his irises, and Gerard felt his muscles relax, tension finally bleeding out of him.

Oh God, of _course_ he loved him.

He loved him.

He loved him.

The ride home was just as comfortable as the one earlier that night. Grant could feel the vague haziness of fatigue settling over him, but Gerard didn’t live too far away, and he was enjoying their time together.

“I like this,” Gerard said, voicing the same thoughts Grant was harbouring. The older man grinned as he stared out into the clear suburban streets, darkness punctuated with street lamps like make-believe stars coalescing into galaxies above their heads.

“I do, too. We’ve never hung out like this. We should do it again,” Grant murmured. Gerard blushed.

“Yeah. I mean, maybe I won’t get wasted next time-“

“Au contraire, you’re cute when you’re wasted. I like it,” Grant chuckled. If Gerard was taking risks because he was drunk, then the very sober Grant was taking absolute liabilities. Gerard allowed the comment to pass over his head, for fear that he would have a nervous breakdown if he let himself ponder it, at least while the alcohol was still coursing through his brain.

“Shut up, I’m just… a horny mess when I drink,” Gerard muttered. Grant raised his eyebrows, a smirk playing around his lips.

“I know,” he said simply.

That was more than enough to get Gerard to shut up for the rest of the ride, his eyes wide as he stared down into his lap. Grant, perhaps, should have felt a little bit guilty for unraveling Gerard, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it for even a moment.

Thankfully for the remnants of Gerard’s sanity, Grant pulled up to Gerard’s apartment building a few minutes later, and before either man could say anything incriminating. The moment should have been an easy one – Gerard should have thanked Grant for the ride, apologised for his drunkenness, and slipped out of the car.  
That isn’t what he did, though.  
Instead, Gerard paused, unclipping his seatbelt, and turning towards his boss. The car suddenly felt much, much too small. If Adam had been intoxicating earlier, then Grant was absolutely biohazard. Gerard’s skin crackled with the force of the magnetism that was drawing him to the other man, his heart beginning to race in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol. Grant, it seemed, wasn’t immune to the chemistry – his own breath suddenly seemed, to Gerard, as if it was labored, his chest rising and falling much faster than usual, as if he were struggling to catch his breath. Gerard met his eyes, which seemed to mirror his own emotions of desire, yet tinged with a vague confusion and reluctance.

“Grant-“ Gerard whispered, moving a little closer to him. The older man stiffened, but didn’t move away. If anything, he seemed as if he wanted to lean forward, but held himself back – his knuckles whitening as he clenched his hand on the steering wheel. Gerard swallowed, before moving a little closer, his thigh pressing gently against Grant’s. They were still looking into each other’s eyes with a palpable intensity, neither man entirely sure what the other was about to do. Gerard reached up, letting his fingers curl in the lapel of Grant’s jacket – and Grant didn’t stop him. Not yet.

Gerard looked at him, almost dumbfounded as he tried to search for his next words. He wanted to ask Grant to come upstairs with him; he didn’t know how, but somehow he knew that the other man would say yes. He wanted to touch him, finally, without fear, without the need to hide his blush, or to avert his eyes so his boss couldn’t see the adoration in his eyes. He wanted _honesty_ , the kind of honesty that could only be brought by him inviting Grant into his apartment and slamming the door behind them.  
But he couldn’t. The words wouldn’t form, and even if they had, Grant’s next sentence would have killed them instantly.

“I think you should go inside, Gerard,” Grant whispered, his voice firm. He looked up, shaking his head softly, “I think… I think you need to go inside now.”

Gerard nodded, but found himself moving closer. Perhaps if he were braver, this would have been the moment he leaned in for a kiss- but he stopped just short, instead he resting his forehead against Grant’s. There was a vague and unfounded belief that Grant wouldn’t pull away – and by some miracle, he didn’t. If anything, he returned the gesture, pressing his forehead into Gerard’s, a soft, defeated breath huffing out through his nose. Gerard’s heart was racing, his stomach turning as if he were moving at a thousand miles an hour, as if he were flying. He loved him, he loved him, he-

“Grant,” he whispered once more, “Grant, I- I think I-“.

Grant cut him off quickly, reaching up to cup his hand against Gerard’s jaw. He let his thumb rest against the other man’s lips, as if physically shutting him up.  
Which, it happened, was his exact intention.

“Gerard. I’m no priest, but this doesn’t feel like the right time for a confession,” he whispered. It was all Gerard could do to not physically recoil from the rejection. That was, after all, what it had been – a plain, unwrapped, un-decorated rejection. Grant’s gaze was apologetic as Gerard pulled away from him, sitting back in his own seat as he stared aimlessly out the windshield.  
He’d really fucked it, now. There was no return from this – whether he wanted it or not, everything was going to change.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Don’t worry about coming in for the open – why don’t you come by around 10, so you can sleep off that hangover,” Grant smiled – but there was no humour to it. He knew, too, that Gerard had just set on fire the careful friendship they had built up over the last few years. The emergence of their flirty banter, Grant’s appraising glances, the soft blush of Gerard’s cheeks: all of it had been tainted, set on fire, and thrown into a grave by the words Gerard hadn’t even said aloud yet. The energy was already turning sour, the make-believe too close to the bone for any more comfort to be found there.

“Sure. See you – thanks for the ride,” Gerard mumbled, blinking back tears as he slipped out of the car. Grant surely saw them, but this time, he wouldn’t comfort him. He couldn’t.

Grant would usually wait to make sure Gerard got into his building okay, but this time he sent a quick prayer that Gerard wouldn’t be murdered in the short walk from the car to the building, and drove away as soon as Gerard had closed the door.

Gerard _didn’t_ get murdered as he entered his building, but a part of him felt like it had died either way.

The morning was wrapped in the sleepy pulse of an evening spent wrapped in the arms of alcohol. The sheets were wrapped around Gerard’s thighs, his shirt stuck to his back in a sweaty coil, exposing his hipbones, beneath which, his pyjama pants sat snugly. Gerard was in the sort of sleep that left pillow-marks on the face, a wet patch of his own saliva matting the pillow beneath his head, sticking the fabric to his face. In his drunken stupor, and the haze of his own rejection-fuelled tears, Gerard had forgotten Grant’s advisory to come into work a few hours late – meaning that, at 6:30am, his alarm clock gave its customary electrical bark, only a foot away from Gerard’s head. The sound seemed to transform into a physical force, a knife swinging through the air to cut cleanly into Gerard’s scalp, smacking him hard right between the ears. The man groaned, pressing his face into the cool of his pillow, as if the soft sheets could soothe the thump of his brain. He reached out, smacking the alarm hard with the palm of his head, before shoving his face further into the darkness of his pillow. His body was still trembling from the night before, nausea curling in his stomach in a way which caused almost as much discomfort as the ringing in his head.

“Fucking- fuck,” he whispered, practically panting in agony as his mind became aware of the trainwreck that was his body, laying broken on his bedsheets. For a moment, he considered trying to sleep it off, just as Grant had suggested. His boss wasn’t expecting him into work for a few hours, and that was enough time for him to sleep, shower, and begin to feel a little bit human again before trying to tackle work.

At the thought of Grant, though, his eyes flew open. Memories played back to him behind his eyes like a reel of gut-twisting regret. He remembered holding his hand, talking about Frank. He remembered the amused eyes, the gentle smirk, the tentative – but fuck, _obvious_ , flirting on both ends. He remembered the comfortable silence of the car ride, of him trying to tell him-

He closed his eyes again, a groan of pain seeping through his clenched teeth that had nothing to do with his aching head.  
Last night, he’d realised he was in love with him – but maybe it was just the alcohol. Maybe it was the shots he’d taken that made Grant’s smile seem so bright, or the several beers in his stomach that had made the touch of his skin seem like salvation. Maybe Gerard didn’t love him at all – maybe it was just the drink.

Whatever it was, Gerard was far too _awake_ to pretend that sleep was within his grasp. The thought that Grant, too, could remember last night (and probably in greater deal than Gerard) caused a spike of anxiety that threatened his already twisting stomach. He tried to rest beneath his sheets, but his brain assaulted him with the image of Grant’s face the night before – ashen, disappointed, and somewhat affronted.

“Well, fuck this,” Gerard hissed to himself, shoving his blanket off the bed, even the dull thud of it hitting his floor making his ears ring. He rose to his feet slowly, acutely aware of the tremors that ran like currents through his body. Standing up, he felt a sway of dizziness and a punch of nausea – but surprisingly, he felt a little better than he had wrapped in his sweat-sodden sheets.

Gerard’s first point of action was the shower – even the thought of the warm water pouring down his body was enough to make him walk as hurriedly as he could to the room, biting his lip in anticipation as he turned the water on.  
With his heating being as unpredictable as it was, Gerard had to wait a few moments, his back pressed against the bathroom door, his eyes on the gradual plumes of steam that began to rise. He tried not to think about the night before – he tried not to remember the longing he’d felt, the same longing he’d seen reflected in Grant’s dark eyes. As he peeled his clothes off of himself, he was certain of one thing – he hadn’t imagined it. The chemistry brewing between them sparking into blinding electric flares hadn’t been fabricated by him alone. Slipping under the cascade of the lukewarm water, Gerard finally allowed his mind to drift to the one place it probably shouldn’t have: what if he’d asked Grant to come inside. He wasn’t sure where his own certainty around the matter came from, but he knew, in plain terms, that his boss _would have_ said yes. Maybe that’s why he didn’t give him the chance to ask – perhaps Grant knew, too, that if Gerard asked, he wouldn’t resist him. The thought made Gerard blush as he considered Grant having to _restrain_ himself, the image of his white knuckles on the steering wheel, specifically, coming to mind. What was it, exactly, that Grant was fighting against?  
Gerard shivered, closing his eyes as he lathered soap in his hands, running it over his body. He wasn’t physically dirty in any obvious way, but nonetheless he pictured brown, murky water curling into the drain as he cleaned himself, as if sucking the toxicity of the alcohol from his very pores, letting it seep out of him and leave him fresh and renewed and, hopefully, in a state to attend work.

Stepping out of the shower a few moments later, it seemed for a few blissful seconds that his intention-based cleanse had really worked – but a rush of nausea a few seconds later shattered the façade, his head beginning its blinding throb as soon as the warm water was no longer present to soothe it.

“This is the best it’s gonna get,” Gerard muttered to himself, shooting his foggy reflection a death glare as he swept out of the bathroom.

Frank, believing that Gerard wasn’t going to be at work until a few hours later (as advised in a text from Grant that same morning) didn’t pick him up as he usually would, meaning that he was already at the café when Gerard arrived, only 5 minutes late for his shift – an impressive feat for a man who was not only severely hungover, but horrifically ashamed of himself. Frank saw him approach, sunglasses practically glued to his face, and rushed to tug the door open so the other man wouldn’t have to struggle with it.

“Gee! Grant said you weren’t gonna be in until 10, you okay?” he asked. Gerard winced at the noise despite himself, before offering a weak smile.

“My alarm went off at its normal time and then I couldn’t sleep – who’s in today?” Gerard asked, giving Frank a one-armed hug as he stepped through the threshold. Frank smiled pityingly at his friend, curling one of his arms around one of Gerard’s as they walked.

“It’s me and Grant again, Bert’s not back in until tomorrow – Grant said you weren’t feeling good?” Frank asked, clearly far more interested in his ex’s health than their work rota. Gerard smiled dryly, pushing his glasses down his nose

“I’m hung-the-fuck-over,” he muttered, “and tired, and achy and-“ he shivered, walking towards the coffee machine.

“Date go well then?” Frank asked, wiggling his eyebrows, resting his elbows on the counter as he watched Gerard begin making his coffee. Gerard frowned, biting his lip. In all the excitement with Grant, he’d actually sort of _forgotten_ about Adam.

“Ah, no. Not really,” he admitted, unwinding his scarf as he stared at the coffee machine. Usually, he’d already have gone through and put his apron on, but he was _aggressively_ avoiding Grant for as long as physically possible, “he was… super forward, and kinda boring. I got drunk to try and make conversation flow better, but-“ he shrugged, “it wasn’t great.”

“Aw, I’m sorry babe,” Frank hummed – although, notably, he didn’t look sorry at all. Gerard squeezed his eyes shut from behind his glasses, deciding that he hadn’t seen Frank looking smug. He was in far too horrible a state to be paying attention to his ex's infatuations. Gerard placed his mug under the nozzle, humming as a stream of hot coffee sprayed into the porcelain.

“It’s fine. I just… I’m glad I did it. It was enlightening,” Gerard smiled, glancing to Frank, who grinned right back at him.

“I’m sure it was. Sorry you didn’t get any dick though, babe. Next time, maybe,” he said brightly. Frank paused, before leaning a little closer over the counter.

“And hey – speaking of uh… you and dicks. Actually this isn’t that smooth a segue-

“ _Frank_ ,”

“Sorry! I just wanted to warn you, Grant’s in sort of a shitty mood this morning. He was actually here _on_ time, and then he didn’t say much to me at all when we were opening. He kinda snapped when I asked him if he was in a mood. I dunno what’s going on, but I’d stay out of his way,” he said in an undertone. Gerard froze, hands balling into fists in his coat pocket, his eyes widening as he stared at the now-full coffee mug.

“O-oh,” he said lamely, swallowing hard, “thanks for the heads-up. Did he say anything about me?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly as he took the mug into his hands, pausing only to blow softly on its surface before taking a deep sip. Frank furrowed his brows, casting Gerard a look of pure confusion.

“Huh? No – why would he?” he asked. Gerard shrugged, shooting Frank a reassuring smile

“No reason, just… being paranoid, I guess,” he mumbled. He set the mug down, pressing his lips together as he glanced at the office.

“Is he in there?” he asked, his voice sounding exhausted even to his own ears. Frank gave a soft grimace.

“He is – the door’s open, though. I’d just go in, drop your stuff, and get outta there. Whatever’s pissed him off, he’s _mad_ ,” Frank chuckled, reaching over to snatch Gerard’s coffee, taking a sip without a second thought. The gesture, though, was far too reminiscent of what Grant had done the night before, and set Gerard’s teeth on edge. He gave Frank a tight-lipped smile, before approaching the office.

True to Frank’s word, the door was open ever-so-slightly. No music emitted from the room this morning, but Gerard could hear the soft scratch of pen on paper. Gerard took a deep breath to steel himself – but he needn’t have bothered.

“Are you going to come in, or are you just going to hover?” came Grant’s voice, sharp and cold, from the other side of the door. Gerard winced, before slowly sliding into the room.

“Sorry, I-“

“You’re early,” Grant noted curtly, not even looking up as Gerard answered. Gerard blinked, trying to collect himself enough to form a reasonable response, whilst also trying to look anywhere but at Grant and the desk he was hunched over.

“Yeah, I just-

“I told you to come in at 10. You can’t just-“ Grant finally looked up, and Gerard couldn’t help but meet his gaze. The older man didn’t look much better than Gerard imagined he, himself, did. Deep bags, a pale face and dry lips accentuated Grant’s bloodshot eyes.

“Are you drunk?” Gerard asked slowly, taking a step back from his boss. Grant scowled at him, grip tightening on the pen in his hand.

“What I do in my own time is none of your business, Gerard. But no – I’m not _currently_ drunk,” he said coldly, “some of us are able to drink outside of work without getting other staff members involved. You should try it sometime.”

Gerard felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach, the breath leaving him in a swift gasp. He gripped hard onto his scarf, acutely aware of the trembling of his hand.

“G-Grant, I’m… I’m grateful-“

“I’m sure you are. Let’s not mention it again. Let’s talk, instead, about how you just-“ he groaned, putting a hand on his forehead, “you just make _decisions_ based on whatever the fuck it is _you_ want, don’t you?”

“I-“

“I mean, I told you to come in at 10, and you just decided to waltz in whenever it suits you. You don’t _think_ , do you? Do you really just run through life, acting like you’re the only other person who’s ever felt anything? Like your choices only affect you? Have you ever considered-“ he cut himself off, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

“I-I can leave, Grant. I’m sorry I came in early, I just-“ he shrugged, feeling the embarrassing first glimmers of tears in his eyes. He _knew_ he’d ruined things, but he never thought he’d ever see Grant as angry with him as he was now.

“It’s not about that,” Grant breathed. When he opened his eyes again, he immediately dropped his gaze to Gerard’s shoes.

“I-is this about-“

“No. It’s not about anything,” Grant mumbled, turning away from Gerard, “get your uniform on, and get out of here. I’m busy, and I’m tired, and-“ he sighed, “and I don’t want to talk to you. Stay out of my way today, Gerard, I mean it.”

Gerard was glad Grant had turned away as the first of his tears began to fall. He dabbed at it with the back of his hand, taking a steadying breath to try and avoid the sob that was brewing in his throat. Wordlessly, Gerard slipped out of his outerwear and pulled his apron on, hands trembling as he tried to tie it.

“Grant I- I really am sorry. I don’t wanna talk about it any more than you do, so we won’t. But I’m so fucking sorry,” he all but whispered. Grant was silent for a few moments, and at first Gerard thought he was just going to ignore him.

“Close the door when you go,” Grant said finally, voice soft and hoarse. Gerard nodded, wiping his eyes one last time, before shuffling out the door, making sure to close it firmly behind him.

A moment later, he heard it lock from the inside.

Grant was true to his word and more regarding not speaking to Gerard. He didn’t appear from his office until just before the lunch rush, and it was as if Gerard didn’t even exist.

“Hey Groucho, you still having a senior moment?” Frank asked when Grant finally reared his head. Gerard braced himself for the other man to snap at him, but he grinned instead, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, shut up, Iero,” he smiled, nudging the other man playfully. Frank snickered, turning his eyes back to his machine.

“Hey, don’t blame _me_. I told you to invite me over the next time you’re drinking alone so you don’t end up being such a bitch the next day. This is entirely on you.”

“What difference would it have made?” Grant asked, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Because then you’d be cranky and drunk, but with the sweet memory of me getting drunk right along with you,” Frank replied easily. Grant groaned dramatically.

“Oh, _please_ , that would only make it worse. Have you ever considered that you’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met?” Grant asked playfully. Frank held up a finger as he reached past Gerard to place the coffee on the counter.

“No, Bert is,” Frank replied succinctly. Gerard half-turned, eyes filled with longing as he watched the other two joke. They had always been closer than Gerard and Grant had been, but he was usually at least somewhat included in their joviality. Even the way Grant was standing was enough to make Gerard feel like he was being intentionally excluded, with his back blocking him out entirely. The nausea from his over-consumption of alcohol had, thankfully, subsided, but he now felt a different kind of twisting in his stomach. Grant glanced, for only a moment, over his shoulder, his face dropping when he saw the kicked-puppy look on Gerard’s face, the genuine regret lingering in his gaze. For a moment, Gerard thought he saw something akin to fondness in Grant’s eyes, but the man turned away before he could be sure.

“Yeah, you’re right. Bert is,” Grant conceded. Frank and Grant continued to converse playfully while Gerard tried to block it out, focusing on the smattering of customers they had through the door, making sure to appear as if nothing were amiss.

“Hey Gerard?” Grant said after a moment. Gerard’s heart leapt into his throat at the sound of his voice – even more so than usual. He turned his head almost embarrassingly fast, the ghost of a hopeful smile on his lips.

“Yeah?”

“You can go on your break now,” he said dully, barely even looking at the other man. Gerard tried to keep his disappointment off his face as he felt his heart clench, watching Grant turn his eyes away from Gerard, looking at nothing in particular, but _anything_ but him.

“Oh. Okay, sure,” he mumbled. Grant nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets as he maintained his steady gaze out onto the café floor. Even hungover and clearly sleepless, Grant looked beautiful and _powerful_ , and Gerard loved him. He wanted to touch him, to feel their hands entwined again, and to tell him to _just look at me_ , and to kiss him. With everything in his soul, Gerard wanted to kiss him.

“I’ll take the till, then,” Grant said, inching towards the counter, but making sure to keep a clear distance from Gerard – as if he were contagious, Gerard thought. No more words were exchanged as Gerard sidled past him, his lip trembling as he walked, head-ducked, through to the office. Gerard kept his eyes on the floor until he reached the outside of the café, the cool brick of the building acting, as he leaned against it, as a good enough replacement for the spine he’d clearly lost.

Gerard was terrified, the very most, of the hour in which Frank was away at lunch and it was just he and Grant alone in the shop. Friday afternoons were always a little busier, so there was no hope of one of them being able to man both the coffee machines and the till. When Frank did eventually go, he caught Gerard by the elbow before descending onto the main floor.

“Hey, are you good?” he asked in an undertone, eyes soft as he regarded his best friend. Grant was already behind the coffee machine making drinks and, politely, pretending not to hear the other two. Gerard gave him a shaky smile, placing his hand over Frank’s.

“I’m good. I’m just-“

“Upset about last night?” Frank finished for him. Gerard stiffened, eyes darting to Grant nervously, before looking back to Frank.

“Uh-“

“Y’know, ‘cause your date didn’t go well and all that,” Frank said gently. Gerard smiled despite himself out of pure relief, squeezing Frank’s fingers.

“Yeah, exactly. You always read my mind, Frankie.”

“Used to be my job, now I’ve just got the skills,” he chuckled. Frank gave Gerard’s arm one last squeeze, “let me know if I can help, okay?”

“Yeah, for sure. Have a good break,” he smiled. Frank shot a wave to both of the men behind the counter as he left the shop; and then there was silence. Complete, deafening silence.

Generally during their time alone, Gerard and Grant would work together happily, engaging in some jokes back and forth and, recently, flirting. Now, though, they didn’t even speak unless they had to – which was ultimately just Gerard checking up on orders, and Grant clarifying things he’d received through the ticket machine.

Despite the stoic atmosphere, Gerard felt as if there had been _some_ improvement. Grant, for example, was no longer seething with rage, and he even gave Gerard a half-smile in response to a ‘thank you’. When Gerard had to call Grant forward to help him explain something to a customer, Grant didn’t touch him, but he didn’t seem to be blanching from his presence, either. Perhaps it was the fact that both men’s respective hangovers had faded, or that Grant had had enough time without Gerard that he was able to calm down – either way, Gerard felt _uncomfortable_ , but no longer abject fear, and that was an improvement. He couldn’t, for example, actually _see_ the irritated glares Grant was shooting to him from behind his back, which meant that he could at least pretend they weren’t happening.

By the time Frank returned, the two were in very much the same mode of silence they had been in when he left. Grant was humming to himself very softly, and Gerard was grasping onto the counter, taking deep breaths and trying not to lose his patience. He was becoming increasingly _angry_. Yes, he’d acted like an idiot – but he had been happy to let it go and pretend it had never happened. He had not, in his defence, made any actual ‘pass’ at Grant, and he’d been _wasted_. He thought those two points alone should be worth _something_ , but judging by Grant’s silence, they weren’t.

“You guys are quiet today, I don’t like it,” Frank muttered as he moved to join Grant at the machine section. Grant smiled softly, eyes on the mug he was adding a foam flower to.

“We were just bitching about you, actually, we had to stop talking so you wouldn’t hear all the mean things we were saying,” he hummed. Gerard cracked a smile, glancing over his shoulder, but not actually adding anything to the conversation.

“Yeah? Was Gerard telling you how shit I am in bed?” he asked coolly. Gerard rolled his eyes, biting his lip as he felt joy spring through him for the first time that day. Frank was, as always, the absolute master of making Gerard smile, _especially_ when he didn’t want to.

“I wasn’t _going_ to, but now that you mention it-“ Gerard said, his voice particularly soft as he tried to navigate the uncertain situation.

“Alright, well. That’s my cue to leave. As soon as sex between you gets brought up, that’s usually where I…would like to not be here anymore,” Grant chuckled, bumping Frank with his hip as he moved away from him. Frank laughed, checking the tickets to get on track, before beginning on the drinks he had waiting for him. Gerard, even despite his best judgement, turned and looked at Grant, glancing properly at his face for the first time that whole day – or at least, since Grant had made him cry.

Grant met his gaze with an expression which was, at first, unfathomable; and then he smiled. It was brief, and didn’t reach his eyes – but it was the first true affirmation Gerard had that their friendship wasn’t completely over. Gerard shot him back something that was, at current, the closest he could muster to a smile in return, before promptly turning back to his station.

For reasons he was too busy to identify, that small reassurance had broken a dam inside his head, and his eyes once again began to prickle with the tell-tale signs of incoming tears. He swallowed them back – if ever a situation were ‘not the time nor the place’, it was now.

“So what the fuck is wrong with you and Grant?” Frank asked. He and Gerard had left work, and were walking home together in the cool October evening. The sky was already darkening, the streetlamps beginning to flicker on as they passed by, casting a yellow glare on their heads, close together as they huddle-walked for warmth. Gerard glanced at him from the corner of his eye, pressing his lips together hard. Lying to Frank entirely was pointless – he knew Gerard better than anyone else did. By the same hand, Gerard had _no_ intention of letting Frank know what had actually happened.

“He was just mad at me for coming in early,” he mumbled, pressing his face into his scarf, burrowing away from the whipping wind, and Frank’s inevitable insistent questions.

“That’s all?” he asked, squeezing Gerard’s arm. The other man shrugged, glancing at Frank over the edge of his cashmere scarf.

“I don’t know what to tell you – he’s a weird guy. He seemed to lighten up towards the end of the day, don’t you think?”

“Not really. I mean, he was fine with me – but he seemed pissed at you. I mentioned you while you were out at your lunch break, and he looked at me like he wanted to kill me for bringing you up-“

“Okay, I get the message,” Gerard snapped, furrowing his brows. Frank sighed, shaking his head.

“Something’s wrong, you’re not telling me something,” Frank insisted. Gerard sighed, falling silent as he tried to focus on just getting home so he could _sleep_. His whole body ached like he’d been hit by a train, his throat was raw from trying to not cry, and he still, even now, felt vaguely nauseous. Gerard knew that he just needed to go home, crash onto his sofa, and fall into the kind of sleep that could only be chased after a long, draining day; but for now, he had Frank, and Frank loved him far too much to just _drop it_.

“Gerard, please tell me you didn’t do something stupid,” Frank groaned. Gerard shot him a dark look, made darker by the shadow of the night and the yellowish tinge to his eyes.

“I didn’t do shit, Frank, shut up,” he grumbled, “I just wanna go home, okay? I’ll…talk to you about it another time. I’m just _tired_.”

Frank let out a frustrated breath, but finally let it go, the pair inevitably falling into silence. The wind roared loudly around them, tousling their hair, making their eyes water from the cold, slinking into the places their clothes didn’t quite cover, and causing both men to chill from the inside out. Frank let out a sigh, pressing his face into Gerard’s shoulder as they approached Gerard’s apartment building.

“It’s freezing tonight, Gee,” he murmured. The pair slowed to a stop just outside, bodies already trembling with the cold. In the short walk, the night sky had descended, and the two men were barely visible beside the looming structure beside them.

“It is,” Gerard agreed, pulling free of Frank and fumbling in his pocket for his key. Frank watched him silently, teeth caught on his lip, as if deep in thought.

“You could come stay with me? I’ve got the extra room, and it’s warm, and Stevie-“

“Thanks, Frankie, I appreciate it,” he Gerard said, glancing up with a genuinely warm smile, before retrieving his keys, “but I may as well get used to it now. November through to February are gonna kick my ass – if I head to your place tonight, I’ll never leave,” he chuckled dryly. Frank closed his eyes, pressing his lips together as he, seemingly, collected himself. Gerard watched him with a nervous gaze, bracing himself for the inevitable impact.

“What if that was okay?” he asked slowly, glancing up. Wrapped up in his coat, looking up at Gerard from behind his curtains of hair, the stars reflecting hopeful rings of pure _love_ in his eyes, Frank looked almost like he did when Gerard first met him – all floppy hair and giggles, lip ring glinting in the sunlight, warm hands and shaky words. Gerard had been so in love with him back then – he loved him still, in a way. But not like this – Gerard knew he couldn’t do _this_.

“It’s not,” he replied hoarsely, eyebrows furrowed as he looked into his eyes. On the contrary, Gerard looked much older – aged, perhaps, by the knowledge he had that Frank did not: they couldn’t be together. Not after all that had happened between them, and certainly not now that Gerard knew, for sure, that he was in love with someone else.

“It could be, Gee,” Frank implored, surging forward and taking his hands, causing the keys to bite into Gerard’s skin.

“No, Frank – come on. Don’t do this,”

“I have to. I _have to_. You don’t have to date me, I know… I know you don’t want that. But come live with me, please? I miss having you around, and the thought of you in that shitty apartment makes me sick,” Frank insisted, squeezing his hand harder. Gerard barely even noticed the pain from the key in his flesh when compared to the ache in his chest.

“Baby – I can’t. It can never be just casual with us. I can’t come live with you, because if I come live with you, we’ll fall in love again, and that won’t work,” he whispered. Gerard was almost angry with himself for not feeling sad – for not feeling _anything_. He was so tired, but it seemed that the universe wasn’t quite done wringing him out.

“How can I fall in love with you again, when I never stopped loving you the first time? We’ve managed to be friends this whole time, why would it be any different?” Frank breathed. Gerard stiffened, closing his eyes as an invisible shot rang out in his chest. Of course he’d always _known_ , but Frank hadn’t ever said it –now it was out there, hanging like a spirit in the air between them.

“I can’t do this, Frank. I can’t… not today, okay?” Gerard groaned, trying to step back – but Frank had him hard by his hands.

“Why? I know you don’t want to be with me, I don’t care. Why are you being so stubborn about this?”

“Because. Just- not today, Frankie, please,” he whimpered, shaking his head as he tried, once again, to pull back, “any other day – not today. Not-“

“Is this because of your shitty date? What does that have to do with you coming home?” Frank pushed, anger forming in a palpable form across his brows. Gerard couldn’t blame him: _he_ was angry with himself, too. He wasn’t making sense, but he couldn’t tell Frank the truth.

“No, it’s not about him, it’s nothing,” he muttered.

“Then – then it’s Grant. It’s Grant, right? Something _happened_ ,” he said sharply, eyes narrowing accusatorily. Gerard finally managed to pull himself free, stumbling backwards a few steps.

“I just don’t fucking love you anymore, Frank! I don’t love you, I _don’t love you._ We won’t ever be together, and you know it. Can you just- can you just fuck off? I’m so fucking _tired_ , I just want-“ he shook his head, tears beginning to slide down his cheeks. He let them fall, finally able to cry openly in the shadow of the night.

“I don’t believe you,” Frank said. His voice was firm, and steady in a way that Gerard was envious of. Gerard would like, just once, to be as sure of _anything_ as Frank was right then.

“Then I’m lying. Whatever – what difference does it make to you, Frank? The answer is still no, it’s always going to be no,” he breathed, wiping his tears with the edge of his scarf. Frank was silent, his eyes almost glowing as he stared at Gerard through the thin veil of the evening, the wind tugging insistently at his hair.

“You’re… you’re a selfish asshole. I don’t know what’s going on with you, and honestly, I don’t know if I want to. You’re so hell-bent on living the shitty version of your life you think you deserve, that you just trample on other people to get it. You threw me away, kept me on a short leash, and then make me out to be some... some lovesick puppy whenever I try to be _nice_ to you. And now you’ve done… fucking _something_ to piss off Grant. If you keep living this way, you’re not gonna have anyone left to push away,”

Gerard shook his head, rubbing a hand over his face.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he sighed. Frank shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess I don’t. I don’t think I actually give a shit either. Have a good night freezing your balls off. Call me if you get sick of being alone – I’ll be there. But you already knew that,” he muttered. Frank turned sharply, ducking his head as he pushed forward through the sharp winds, disappearing into the dark of the street.

Gerard closed his eyes, letting the rush of the wind sweep up through his clothes, blowing a chill through the tear-tracks on his cheeks and dragging the breath through his throat. Frank’s anger had been sudden – but it wasn’t misplaced. The comment, specifically, about Gerard keeping him on a short leash was particularly resonant: he hadn’t meant to but Gerard did, in fact, give Frank just enough attention to keep him holding on to a glimmer of hope. He should have given the other man a clean break, but he hadn’t wanted to lose him - he still didn’t want to. Maybe if last night hadn’t happened, he’d have said yes to Frank, and he’d have gone home with him; maybe they’d have kissed, or maybe they really would have just been friends. It didn’t matter, now. His head and his heart ached, and the wind was biting insistently at his nose. Guilt crawled into his bones as he stared into the night, his own wrongs settling in where anger had previously occupied. He knew he didn’t owe Frank a reunion, but he did, perhaps, owe him more credit than he was giving - to assume their carefully-formed friendship would break so easily was potentially insulting to both himself and to Frank: but it was too late to speculate. Frank was already gone, and Gerard was so, so tired. 


End file.
